


Anyone Else But You

by javajunkie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 82,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell hath no fury like a woman who had her cab stolen. When Oliver unwittingly steals Felicity's cab, sparks fly - and not good ones. Reunited some time later by a twist of fate, Oliver tries to win her over, with less than encouraging results. AU OLICITY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Felicity Smoak hurried down the street, anxiously blotting at the rather large stain at the front of her periwinkle blue dress. She could smell the coffee coming off the stain, a constant reminder that she was incapable of holding a coffee cup upright, a shortcoming that she didn't exactly want to hang around for the close of her first week of work. Especially because she was supposed to make an appearance at a lunch with some of the company's stockholders that afternoon. She shouldn't have stopped for coffee. She should have known that her nerves would get the best of her, and sure enough they did, resulting in a messy stain down the front of her dress and a severe lack of caffeine. Part of her begrudged the last part more.

She'd also decided to stop at one of her favorite coffee places in the city, thinking that she'd have a nice leisurely walk down to the office, which would help silence her quivering nerves. While never sporty, she always believed in the soothing effects of physical exercise, whether it be a walk or simply fidgeting. She was an A-plus fidget-er. But, the prospect of a three or four block walk with her nerves already pulled so tight was too much for her, so she decided on a cab and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, holding her arm out just like they did in the movies. She saw a cab coming and when the driver nodded she dropped her hand, peeking into her purse momentarily to make sure she hadn't accidentally left her wallet in the coffee shop. All she needed now was to be stuck in a cab without any money.

When she glanced up she was flummoxed to see a tall man walking toward her cab - which had stopped just short of her - and then, when she was certain he'd see that the cab was meant for her, he had the gall to actually open the door and climb in himself. Undaunted, Felicity flew toward the cab and said, "Hey, this cab is mine!"

"I don't think so considering I'm the person in it," the guy said. Blue eyes looked up at her with nearly as much defiance as she felt. They were nice eyes, and she would have taken a breath to admire them if she hadn't been so miffed.

"But, this is my taxi. I hailed it," she argued. Catching the cab driver's gaze in the rearview mirror she said, "Tell him you were pulling over for me!"

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," he returned in a thick accent, holding his hands up.

"I hailed this taxi," she told him firmly. "It's mine."

"I didn't see your hand out or anything," the guy said.

Irritation flaring she all but shrieked, "I hailed the taxi!"

"Look, this isn't the only cab out here. You'll get another," the guy said, reaching forward and taking a hold of the inside handle.

"But-"

He slammed the door in her face and she staggered backwards with an audible scoff, watching the cab pull into traffic and disappear down the road.

"That son of a bitch," she murmured, shaking her head. There were few things in life that made Felicity Smoak positively seeth, but a lack of common decency was one of them. Stealing someone's cab? Well, that was just about one of the least decent things a person could do.

Another cab rode down the street and she easily hailed it, no one jumping in at the last second and snatching it from her. She made sure to keep her hand out the entire time this go, though. She never made the same mistake twice.

BBBBBBBBBB

Oliver checked his watch, hoping that traffic wouldn't keep him from getting to Verdant on time. The champagne shipment was supposed to get there at 8:45, and he knew from experience that if he was a minute late the delivery guy would head on straight to his next delivery and leave them literally high and dry for that night. Tommy was supposed to be there to sign off on the shipment, but he'd called fifteen minutes before the shipment was due to arrive and told Oliver he had to be there instead. He'd spouted off some list of excuses, but Oliver stopped listening at the point when he heard Tommy wouldn't be at Verdant, imagining all the money they'd miss out on that night if they couldn't offer bottle service.

Starling City's traffic was predictably heavy right before the bewitching corporate hour of 9:00, and Oliver anxiously watched as the cars inched forward. They came up alongside any alleyway and Oliver said, "Pull off here."

"That won't get you to the address you gave me, sir."

"Yes, it will," Oliver said. He knew the back streets well around Verdant, and while not all of them were exactly legal, they did the trick.

The cab driver hesitated for a moment before pulling off. He showed a normal level of discomfort at making incorrect turns and driving past hoards of drug dealers and prostitutes as they snaked through a rougher area of Starling City, but he held no grievances against Oliver when he handed him a crisp fifty dollar bill for a twenty dollar cab ride.

Still, even with the illegal detour, Oliver was late. It was only a few minutes, and he hoped that the guy happened to wait a bit. That wasn't how they usually played, but who knows, maybe he'd get lucky. He walked into the club and was surprised to see the men already working to bring the cases back into the storage room, Tommy directing them.

"Tommy, what are you doing here?" Oliver said.

His friend glanced toward him and said, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm telling the guys where to put these cases of champagne. It's the wrong brand, by the way. You're going to have to call and yell at some people. I'd do it, but we both know I hate confrontation."

Oliver smirked. "Yes, you're much too delicate for it. I thought you couldn't make it. That's why I rushed down here. I even stole some girl's cab to make it in time for the shipment."

Tommy snorted. "You stole a cab? That's douchey, man. Even for you."

"I didn't want us to have no champagne tonight," Oliver argued. He did feel a little bad about taking that girl's cab, and she definitely had seemed pissed. But, hey, city life is brutal and sometimes that involves people stealing your cab. She'd live.

"I know. That would have sucked major. Can you imagine all the bitching we would have heard about not having bottles?"

"Alright, that's all of it," the delivery guy said, coming out of the storage room with the large cart he'd rolled all the champagne in with rolling behind him.

"Thanks, man," Tommy said off-handedly, walking behind the bar and pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels from the shelves of liquor. Oliver sat down on one of the bar stools, watching Tommy pour himself a drink.

"You know, you need to stop filching our liquor."

"We both know that's never going to happen," Tommy returned happily, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Besides, what's the point of owning a club if you can't have a free drink once in a while?"

"It's not free. We pay for it."

"Semantics. Anyway, are you going to be at the club tonight? There's someone I want you to meet."

Oliver grinned. "Is this another Tommy Merlyn match-up? That last girl you introduced me to still calls me at least once a day. I've had to start screening my calls."

"I probably should have mentioned the whole mental imbalance thing. But, hey, she was a good lay, right?"

"Sure. But at what cost?"

Tommy shrugged, taking another large gulp of the whiskey. "Well, rest assured, this is not a match-up. My cousin just moved here, and I promised to introduce her to some people."

"Cousin, huh?"

Tommy nodded. "Yes, and you are not allowed to even think about touching her."

Oliver laughed at his friend's uncharacteristic protective showing. There had never been a single girl that Tommy hadn't actively championed him to pursue. "You know, I'm a little offended here."

"I know how we are with women," Tommy answered sensibly. "And we are the worst. Usually I'm proud of that fact, but not when it involves my cousin. She's too pure for the likes of us. So, you keep your hands and thoughts to yourself, understood?"

"I promise, not a single impure thought will pass through my mind," Oliver assured him. Besides, the way Tommy was describing this girl, he was pretty certain there would be no problem keeping his mind clean.

BBBBBBB

Felicity hated going out. She hated clubs. She hated bars. She hated any place where it smelled like beer and urine and you had to shout to have any sort of conversation. But, Tommy had invited her, glibly reminding her that a computer wasn't a proper friend, and she grudgingly agreed. It wasn't so much that he was right – because most times her computer was just enough company for her, thank you very much – but she told herself that things would be different in Starling City. She'd make an effort to meet people, to make connections that weren't over an Ethernet or wi-fi, and she knew there was no better person to facilitate that than Tommy Meryln.

Tommy had always been the social one in their family. Sometimes she thought it was a way to compensate for his father's constant lack of attention, or maybe he just really liked people. Either way, he always had a large hoard of friends and a conveyor belt of girlfriends. People gravitated toward him, and while she would never readily admit this, she'd always envied him for it.

So, she was going to put a little effort in and let him help her. Besides, what was one night of socialization? If it really was so awful she could go back tomorrow night to her Netflix account and large red wine stash.

He'd told her to wear appropriate club attire, which she took to mean everything that did not comprise her usual wardrobe. There were a few dresses from college that were purposely left out of her wardrobe rotation, and she laid them on her bed to choose from. She settled on a shorter shift dress covered with gold beads. It had been part of a go-go costume she'd worn for Halloween in undergrad, but she figured that without the tall white boots it would do just fine for a night of forced frivolity.

She kept her hair in its usual high ponytail but ditched the glasses, opting instead for a pair of contacts. She put on a swipe of shimmery lip gloss and then picked up her liquid eyeliner, doing a thick cat eye. Finished, she stepped back and checked her work. Staring back at her was someone who looked like she would willingly spend a perfectly good night at a club wedged between sweaty bodies.

"Well, at least you look the part," she murmured.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, groaning when she saw a text from Tommy saying he'd be about forty minutes later. That was another thing about Tommy. He was never on time.

Figuring she had some time to spare, she walked out into her kitchen and pulled out a bottle of red wine. She might as well get a jump start on the evening.

BBBBBBBBBB

"Well, I'm glad to see that our business is thriving tonight," Tommy said loudly over the boisterous throng of the young and hip surrounding them inside Verdant.

Oliver nodded, taking a pull from his beer. A girl in a skin-tight emerald green dress walked past him, catching his eye. She gave him a coy smile, her hips moving fluidly as she walked away.

"Damn, that was a hot one," Tommy murmured, clapping a hand down on Oliver's shoulder.

"I know," Oliver said unhappily. Tommy had made him promise to not go on any conquests until he'd met his cousin. He claimed that Oliver would get caught up with his new piece of skirt and completely ignore his cousin. Oliver couldn't deny he had a point.

"When is your cousin getting here again?" Oliver said, neck craned as he tried to see where the green dress had gone off to. Maybe if he kept an informal tab on her he could find her after his best-friend-duty was finished up.

"Ah, there she is," Tommy said.

"Huh?"

Oliver followed Tommy's gaze and nearly dropped his beer. Walking toward him was a shimmering vision in gold. She was undeniably beautiful, and Oliver thought to himself that she didn't seem like the type of person who needed anyone's help to meet other people. His eyes travelled down her long expanse of legs. Yeah, she looked like she did just fine by herself. Something about her was familiar, and he tried to place her as Tommy hugged her and then took a hold of her elbow, bringing her over to Oliver.

"Felicity, I'd like you to meet my partner in business and crime, Oliver Queen."

Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing, her lips pressing into a clearly disapproving frown. It took him a minute, but then he placed her.

"We've met," she said icily. "I'm going to get a drink."

She turned on her heel and stalked off toward the bar, only she went in the wrong direction. Tommy went to yell something after her but then shrugged and said, "She'll figure it out eventually." He turned his attention back squarely on Oliver. "So, she seemed to really hate you. How'd you pull that off so quickly? She only got in town yesterday."

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Remember how I told you I stole someone's cab?"

Tommy's snorted. "You stole her cab? Oh man, she's going to hate you for life."

"Come on, it's not that bad."

Tommy laughed. "It's pretty bad. You can admit it."

"It's not like I kidnapped her first born or something. I accidentally took her cab."

"I think the word accidentally requires a lack of knowledge as to what you were doing. And, let's be real, you knew what you were doing."

"Whatever. She'll get over it."

"Good luck with that," Tommy said, raising his glass. "Really. I've seen that girl hold a grudge, and she's exceptionally good at it."

"If I am good at anything, it is moving immoveable objects," Oliver said smoothly. With a wink he added, "I did sleep with Janet Queller, remember?"

"Yes, we all know how you deflowered Pastor Queller's daughter," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "But Felicity is different. Trust me. Looks like I'll have to find her new friends, because you're toast."

A glimmer of gold caught Oliver's attention. Felicity must have caught her misdirection because she was pushing through the crowd, making her way to the bar.

"I'm going to go buy your cousin a drink."

As he walked off he heard Tommy call out, "You're a brave man, Oliver Queen!"

The crowd was thick and populated with female land mines that almost derailed him on his mission. One in particular, with a slinky red dress and loose black curls nearly caught him, but he pressed forward. He finally made it through the crowd and he spotted Felicity casually leaning against the bar. With a deep breath he stepped forward, plastering on his most charming smile.

"Let me get you a drink," he said, sidling next to her.

She held up what looked like a cosmopolitan and told him, "I already have one."

"Well, then let me pay for it."

The bartender returned with change for her and she took it, paying Oliver a lofty glance as she said, "Too late."

Undeterred he said, "Okay, then I'm buying the next one. But I can't in good conscience let you order another one of those." He pointed at the pinkish-red drink. "I think you're the first person to order that since 2004."

"Wow. First you steal my cab and then you criticize my choice of drink. You're currently scoring negative points."

Oliver chuckled. She was positively pissed and looked about one snarky comment from throwing the drink in his face, and he liked it. Not many girls made him laugh. They made him a lot of other things, but laughing was not on that list.

"Okay, can we start over?" he asked. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

He could see her rearing to argue with him. Her jaw ticked and he was moderately sure if he glanced down her hand would be balled in a fist. But she seemed to decide against any further outburst as she exhaled slowly and returned in a tight – albeit calm – voice, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated, small grin playing on his mouth. This was progress. "I'm sorry for taking your cab. It was not a nice thing."

"No, it wasn't," she returned crisply.

"So, I'm sorry. I mean, I did have a good reason, but –"

She made a face and shook her head quickly. "Excuse me? There is no good reason to steal someone's cab. Unless you're severely injured. Or in labor. Those are good reasons. But as you seem neither injured or female, you have no good reason to fall back on, buddy."

"Buddy?" he repeated, laughing. "Did you really just call me buddy?"

"Okay, our fresh start is officially over," she said angrily. She went to leave but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? Please don't go. Tommy will find out I pissed you off for the second time in one day and dip my hand in warm water again when I'm sleeping."

Despite her irritation, Felicity couldn't help but smirk. "Do you and Tommy live together?"

He nodded. "For two years."

She bit the inside of her cheek. Every bit of her wanted to leave and not have to talk to Oliver Queen again, but the fact that he lived with Tommy led to another undeniable fact that she would be seeing a decent amount of him. Her and Tommy were close, and she couldn't exactly ignore Oliver in his own apartment. Besides, it seemed like Tommy and Oliver were close.

"I have one ground rule," Felicity said after a moment. Oliver nodded for her to continue. "From this moment on, neither of us mentions the cab incident."

He laughed, nodding. "That seems fair."

She paused for a moment and asked, "Have you done the hand in warm water thing to Tommy?"

He didn't know whether or not this was a trick question, but he decided no one could ever fault him for the truth and he nodded. To his surprise she grinned wide and said, "I wish I could have seen that."

BBBBBBBBB

An hour or so later they snagged one of the coveted large corner booths at the edge of the club. Felicity was sipping her second drink bought by her for Oliver. She let him pick the drink for her after he obstinately refused to order her a cosmopolitan, and she was pleased with the pumpkin-basil whiskey sour he brought her back.

"So, where do you work?" Oliver asked. Felicity had just told them it had been her first day at work and she already had to fix the fax machine twice.

"Merlyn Global Group," Felicity said.

"She's in the family business," Tommy filled in. "And my father has neatly shifted all his hopes and dreams for me to her. It's a nice little arrangement."

"I think you're too hard on him," Felicity said, remembering the numerous pictures of Tommy and the family that Malcom Merlyn had on his desk.

"No, I'm just basing an opinion off of years of missed birthdays, graduations, and that one time he legitimately confused me for my brother."

"You and Rob do look alike," Felicity tried.

"Sure, maybe it you squint really hard and downed a handle of vodka," Tommy said. His gaze had drifted off into the crowd and he perked up when he saw something. He hit Oliver arm and said, "Green dress has surfaced again."

Oliver looked at him in confusion. "What?"

He pointed over to a group of girls to the side and Oliver recognized the green dress girl from before. She felt his gaze and glanced back, a satisfied grin spreading on her face as she placed a hand on the curve of her waist and pointedly looked away.

"I believe my presence is requested," he said, standing up. "Felicity, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

"Yes, we will," she returned in a voice that masked just how she felt on that particular topic. "Make sure that one has her shots, now."

He smirked. "Thanks for the advice. I'll see you guys later."

Felicity watched Oliver walk over to the green dress. He touched her arm and she glanced up with a knowing grin. Felicity wouldn't be surprised if he had her out of the club and on her back in less than an hour.

"So, that's your roommate," Felicity said, tearing her eyes away from the mating ritual.

"Yeah. It seemed like you guys were getting along okay. I wasn't so sure after the cab –"

"Ah, no," she interrupted, holding up a hand. When he gave her a confused look she told him, "There is a complete and total moratorium on speaking of that event. It's really for the well being of everyone."

Tommy laughed. "Whatever you say. So, my dad's not being too much of a dick at work, is he?"

She shook her head. "No, he was actually really great today. He invited me to a lunch with some of the company's shareholders. It seemed a bit strange for an IT kid to be there, but everyone was really nice."

"Good," Tommy said. "Because you're too nice to have to deal with his bol shit."

"I can handle it," she assured him. "But I don't think I'll have to. I think…" she trailed off, not knowing whether she should continue.

"What?" he asked. When she didn't say anything he pressed, "What is it?"

"I just think he's different since your mom passed away," she said. It had only been a year, and she didn't know if it was appropriate to bring it up – especially in the middle of a club – but Tommy only shook his head.

"He mentioned you a lot," she told him. "He was telling me about the club here and how you and Oliver built it single-handedly. He's proud of you."

"Yeah, well, being proud of someone is not the same thing as having an actual relationship with them," he said bitterly. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about him. I just wanted to make sure he's treating you okay."

"He is," she assured him.

"Good." He was silent for a moment, studying her face. "You want to go home, don't you?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah. I have since about the moment I got in here."

"Alright," he said, scooting out of the booth. "You know, you're lucky you're family. I'm giving up this prime real estate for you right now."

She smirked. "I am more than capable of getting a cab."

"I know. Come on."

They headed out of the club, Felicity's blood pressure decreasing significantly when they stepped out into the cool outdoors. There was a line for cabs and her and Tommy went and stood in the back. They chatted about nothing in particular, passing time as the line moved up steadily.

"I hope you had a little bit of a good time tonight," Tommy said, opening the cab door for him.

"I did," she told him, ducking into the cab. She looked up at him from the seat. "Thank you for taking me out on the town, Tommy."

He smirked. "Anytime. Have a safe trip to your apartment."

He closed the door and the cab driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, waiting for the address. She told him the address and then leaned her head back against the seat, watching Starling City pass in a blur outside the window.


	2. Chapter Two

Felicity stood in front of the door to Tommy and Oliver's apartment, a bottle of wine wedged under her arm and a six-pack of Summer Shandy in each hand. She glanced down at her full hands and considered the best way to knock on the door. Finally settling on a good kick from the toe of her bright purple flat, she waited impatiently for one of them to answer the door.

It was Oliver who answered, and he immediately took one of the six packs, stepping back for her to walk into the apartment. Tommy sat on the couch and shot her a lazy grin as she walked in.

"You're late," he said by way of greeting. "It started five minutes ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you commenting on me being late because I was getting the liquor that you refused to leave your apartment and get yourself?" Felicity quipped in return, setting the remaining six-pack on the table and pulling the wine out from under her arm.

"You got Summer Shandy?" Tommy said, leaning forward and plucking a beer from the six pack. "I thought I said Fat Tire."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "You're such a beer prima donna. By the way, it's still weird that you guys watch this."

"The Bachelor is fine entertainment," Tommy returned easily. "Hoards of women basically playing the game who-can-give-it-up-the-fastest? This guy is living the dream."

"Please tell me you don't share my cousin's extremely sexist opinion," Felicity told Oliver, handing her wine over to him. He already was equipped with the wine opener, and as he walked into the kitchen to open the bottle he tossed over his shoulder, "I'm just here for Chris Harrison."

Felicity snorted, standing beside him as he unscrewed the cork from the bottle.

"I see you got another red," he noted.

"Is there any other type?"

Oliver grinned. "You just don't strike me as a red girl. Especially not a cabernet."

"And what exactly does a red girl entail?" Felicity asked, opening the cabinet to her right and pulling out a wine glass. She'd been at their apartment so often over the past few weeks that she knew just about where everything was in the kitchen. Although, that might have less to do with her time spent there and more with the fact that she was usually the one to unload the dishwasher, otherwise the dishes piled up in the sink and attracted fruit flies. She glanced back at Oliver to see if he wanted a glass too, and he nodded.

Oliver thought about what she'd asked him for a moment as he handed her the bottle of wine. After a moment he laughed and admitted, "You know, I don't actually know."

"And let that teach you to not judge without a proper foundation for said judgment," Felicity said as she poured him a glass. She handed it over to him and he nodded appreciatively.

"Noted."

"Can you guys stop flirting over there and sit your asses down? You're talking over Chris."

"Tommy gets very touchy during The Bachelor," Oliver whispered with a slight grin. "We'd better sit down."

Oliver and Felicity settled on the couch next to Tommy. Felicity drew her legs up under her, curling into the side of the couch as she sipped on her wine. On the television screen, the new bachelor, Matthew, was on a very romantic horse riding date with a contestant whose name was actually Candy.

"Do girls actually find horse riding romantic?" Tommy asked casually, taking a pull from his beer. "Because it seems pretty unromantic to me."

"I'd like it," Felicity said, resting her head on the back couch cushion. "But I like horses. If you don't like horses, totally different story."

"It wouldn't be my idea of a nice date," Oliver said.

Tommy snorted. "Of course you wouldn't." When Felicity looked confused he filled in with, "Oliver's ex was a huge horse person. The breakup left him a bit wounded."

"I was not wounded."

"Oh really? So, all of that Coldplay wasn't coming from your bedroom?"

Felicity's phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket, smiling softly when she saw the message. She swiped into the phone and typed out a quick response.

"What's that little smile I see there, Felicity? That's your guy smile."

Felicity glanced up from her phone. "I do not have a guy smile."

"Yeah, you do," Tommy said. He turned his attention to Oliver and said, "Every time she's into someone, she gets this goofy smile whenever they text or call her."

"That's not true."

"Don't get all defensive," Tommy told her. "It's a cute thing."

Felicity rolled her eyes, but then her phone buzzed and she felt her mouth curve upwards entirely of its own accord.

"There it is again!"

"I have to agree with Tommy," Oliver said. "It was definitely there. And also, it _is_ pretty cute."

Felicity hit his arm.

"So, who is it?" Tommy asked. "Did you meet someone here already?"

"No," Felicity returned stubbornly. "I didn't meet someone. It's…Nick."

Tommy was mid sip, but put the bottle down at that. "Nick the Prick? I thought you guys finally broke up."

Felicity blinked rapidly. "First of all, please don't call him that – "

"Um, if I remember correctly, _you_ called him that," Tommy said.

"And we aren't broken up," she continued. "We were on a break. Which, now, is no longer the case."

"This is not good," Tommy said, shaking his head. "I've told you this before. Relationships never work after the break. That's just a guy's way of saying he wants to sleep around for a little. And then, once he's gotten it out of his system he comes crawling back."

"That's not true. Not for Nick and I. The break ended because we love each other."

"You honestly believe that?" Tommy asked.

"Yes," Felicity said crisply, taking a sip of her wine. "I do."

Tommy shook his head. "Then you're as delusional as the girls on this show."

 

* * *

 

"So, what's up with that Nick guy?" Oliver asked later that night after Felicity had left. "You seemed to be really against Felicity dating him again."

"That's because she's dating the King of Douches. The guy is the absolute worse."

"How so?"

"They've been together for years, and he jerks her around. They're always going on breaks, and she vows to not take him back until he comes crawling back."

Oliver was surprised by that. He couldn't imagine Felicity being strung along by some guy. But then he remembered how her face lit up every time she got a text earlier.

"You think she'd get the hint," Oliver murmured.

"For better or definitely worse, she loves the guy. And love, my friend, makes even the most rational Felicity Smoak act utterly irrational. Like, for instance, getting back together with a guy who puts their relationship on hold every few months so he can take his wiener out for a walk."

"She knows that he cheats on her?"

"Oh yeah," Tommy said. "I've gotten her drunk a few times and it's her drunk rant of choice. But she rationalizes it by hanging on the fact they were on a break. So, technically it's not cheating. As you can see, the guy is a major ass hole."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"We should get some chocolate chip ice cream, by the way," Tommy said. "Because when this implodes next she'll be showing up at our door, and the only thing that calms her down is ice cream. I tried using whiskey once in its place, and it took me a week to clean the remnants of that from my bathroom."

Oliver picked up the empty beer bottles from the table and walked them over to the trashcan. He hadn't known Felicity for too long, but he'd already formed a pretty strong opinion of her. She was tenacious and confident and not at all the type of person who would take shit from anyone. Yet, she was completely under the thumb of some ass hole guy who couldn't realize just how good he had it. Did love really make someone that blind?

 

* * *

 

A few days later Oliver was shopping at the local grocery store when he spotted Felicity in the cereal aisle, mulling over two boxes of cereal. He walked over to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and murmured, "You should definitely go with the Trix. No one should willingly choose Raisin Bran over Trix."

She jumped at his sudden presence and dropped the Trix on the ground. He laughed, leaning forward to scoop the box up off of the floor.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," she said as he handed her back the box.

"I didn't sneak up on you. I was simply walking down the cereal aisle and I saw you in what looked like a very serious cereal-choice-predicament. I was trying to help."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, your advice was terrible. I happen to like Raisin Bran."

"Are you sure? Because I have it on good authority that no one actually likes Raisin Bran."

"Did the big ol' sun on the front of the box tell you that?" she deadpanned.

"Well, who would know better?"

She couldn't help but grin a bit at that and plucked the box from his hand, putting it back on the display and grabbing a second box of Raisin Bran instead. She put both boxes in her cart and Oliver said, "That physically pains me."

"Why? You're not the one eating it."

"Yes, but you're going to have such boring mornings now."

Felicity rolled her eyes and then took a quick peek into his basket. It looked like a seven year old boy's dream. There was candy, pop tarts, Captain Crunch, and a rather large bag of Cheetos. The only thing that looked out of place was the errant bag of razors.

"That's quite the gastronomic selection you've got there," she noted.

He grinned. "I even kicked it up a notch this time. I went for flaming hot Cheetos."

"That's very adventurous of you."

"Go big or go home, right?"

"Go home sounds about right," Felicity said. "The Raisin Bran officially ended my shopping trip."

He walked with her to the cashier, noting how she carefully looked before she exited an aisle. She stopped for a moment to let an elderly shopper pass. The woman dipped her head gratefully as she passed.

"So, tell me about this Nick guy you're dating," Oliver said.

"I'm sure Tommy's told you enough," Felicity returned. "Let me guess, he told you that Nick is the worst and that I am equally the worst for staying with him?"

Oliver shrugged. "He said some things, yeah. But I want to hear from you."

She pressed her lips together, steering her cart into one of the shorter lines. It was a Saturday, so really any line had them waiting for a good five or ten minutes. Caught behind several carts piled high with groceries, Felicity figured she had nothing better to do than do what he'd asked.

"We met at MIT," she said. "It was freshman year. We were at a party and he showed me how to work the keg."

"Ah, the start of every good college romance," Oliver interjected. "I used the keg move a few times myself."

Felicity shook her head. "It wasn't a move. I asked him for help, and I genuinely needed it. I'd never seen a keg in person before and I definitely never worked one. Anyway, we chatted that night and exchanged phone numbers. We started dating pretty soon after that and we've been together ever since."

Oliver silently added an on-and-off to that last statement, but chose not to correct her. She wanted to paint her relationship as idyllic, and he'd let her have that.

"Okay, so that's how you met. I want to know about him, though. Tell me what he's like."

Felicity considered this for a moment, moving up as the line inched forward. For some reason it felt weird talking about her boyfriend with Oliver in a grocery line. Although, admittedly she couldn't think of any other scenario where it would be normal.

"He's really nice," she finally said. "He's a foodie. Which is sort of annoying when all I want is a plain old burger, but is also sort of cool. His favorite book is _To Kill a Mockingbird."_

"Here's the real question – chocolate or vanilla."

Felicity laughed. "Seriously?"

"The choice says a lot about a person. My sister Thea has chosen boyfriends based on the choice alone."

"Your sister sounds like a treat."

He gave her a look. "Come on, stop dodging the question."

"Fine," she sighed. "Um, swirl."

"Swirl," Oliver said, nodding appreciatively. "That is interesting. Very interesting."

"Alright, so, tell me what it means."

"I don't know," he said evasively. "I have to think about that one."

He didn't. Choosing swirl hinted at a wandering eye. It was the inability to commit to a single flavor.

"What about you? Are you a vanilla or a chocolate?" Felicity asked.

"Vanilla," Oliver said without hesitation. "I'm a traditionalist."

Felicity snorted. "Of course you are."

"What about you? Chocolate or vanilla?"

Felicity shrugged. "Neither, really. But I guess if I had to choose I'd be vanilla, too. I've never liked chocolate ice cream. It doesn't actually taste like chocolate."

"It's like everything grape flavored," Oliver agreed, nodding.

"Exactly!" she said, grinning up at him. "You know, people usually don't agree with me on that."

"Well, you have me now," he returned, knocking his arm against hers.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at him. "I guess I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review! Review! Review!
> 
> Next chapter will be up tomorrow :D


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Felicity didn't like charity events back home, and she didn't like them any better in Starling City. She'd always had a philanthropic flair, but she'd much rather send a nice check than spend an evening with stuffy socialites who spend more of the night talking about their weekly Botox sessions than actual societal problems. She'd actually heard someone remark, upon being asked about the ravages of lung cancer, "Let's not talk about such a morose topic." The evening was a benefit for lung cancer.

"Do I really have to go?" Felicity asked Tommy, stretching her legs out and propping her feet on the coffee table.

"Yes, you really do," Tommy said. "My grandmother specifically requested your presence tonight. And you know what happens if she requests your presence and you don't show."

Felicity frowned. Yes, she knew what happened. Emily Merlyn had the coldest shoulder known to mankind if you crossed her. And that cold shoulder was more than happy to apply to family members if they chose to not do what Emily Merlyn asked.

"I could always fake an illness," Felicity mused. "Project vomiting. No one ever questions that. I mean, it's _projectile vomiting_."

"I don't think people actually projectile vomit," Tommy said. "And, my grandmother would definitely question that. Especially for tonight. This benefit is her baby. She's been working on it for months."

"But I really don't want to go."

"Did you really come here at eight in the morning just to complain about tonight?" Tommy asked. "Because you're infringing on my lounging-in-bed-with-Netflix time."

Felicity smirked. "Anxious for the next _Vampire Diaries_ episode, huh?"

"It was one episode!" he returned loudly, cheeks flushing. "And, for the record, there was a lot of scantily clad women in it."

"Oh, of course," she returned. "And, no, I'm not just here to complain. I left my phone charger here on Tuesday."

"Right," Tommy said, walking over to the kitchen and returning with her charger. "I thought it was Oliver's. He has the same one."

"Where is Oliver, anyway?" Felicity asked.

"Indelicado," Tommy said, hiking a thumb toward Oliver's bedroom door. "I don't blame him, though. That girl from last night." He pressed his fingers to his thumb and kissed them

"Ah, okay."

As if on cue, the door opened and a girl padded out in a dress and heels much too fancy for eight in the morning. Her hair was mussed and eye makeup smudged beneath her eyes in a manner that looked more sexy than messy. Felicity was pretty sure if she left in the same state she'd look like a train wreck, but this girl wore it well.

"Hi…bye," the girl murmured with a sheepish smile as she passed them. Oliver came out a few seconds later, clad only in a pair of boxers. He stopped short when he saw Felicity and stammered, "Felicity, you're here."

"Yes, I am."

"Huh."

She grinned a bit and cooed, "Your girl is beautiful, Hubble."

Oliver stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"It's a _The Way We Were_ reference," Tommy interjected wearily. "Be happy you don't get. I wouldn't, either, if she didn't make me watch it every other week growing up."

Oliver shrugged and walked back into his room. When he reemerged a few moments later he'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a white tshirt. He went straight to the kitchen, murmuring something about a long night as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"I'd say so," Tommy said.

"So, what are you doing here again?" Oliver asked Felicity, walking back into the rec room with his cup of coffee. Felicity could smell it from where she sat, and she asked, "Is there more coffee in the pot?"

Oliver nodded, handing her his cup. She went to refuse, but he'd already walked back into the kitchen.

"I, uh, left my charger here," she explained, taking a sip. "I also wanted to see how likely it was I could duck out of tonight's charity thing."

"Shit, I forgot about that," Oliver said, sitting next to her on the couch. He glanced at Tommy and his friend shook his head as he sighed, "Not you, too. What do you guys have against these things? It's good food. Free booze. See the bright side, people."

"Tommy does have a point," Oliver told Felicity.

"Damn right I do."

"I hope they have the stuffed mushrooms," Oliver mused. "Those are always really good. Or the beef skewer thingies. Those are good, too."

"I love the beef skewer thingies," Tommy sighed.

"Alright, you guys continue your ode to the _beef thingies_ , I need to go," Felicity said, standing up and arching her back slightly as she stretched. "I have errands to run. And now, because of this stupid event, I need to have it all done before dinner."

"What errands take longer than that?" Tommy asked, plopping down into her former spot. "I think you're doing too many errands."

She shook her head with a slight grin. "I'll see you boys tonight."

 

* * *

 

While out running errands Felicity reasoned that the night's festivities necessitated a new dress, and she splurged on a curve hugging emerald green gown. She paired it with some gold jewelry that her parents gave her for her college graduation, and then headed out to the Mount Caramel Country Club where the benefit was being held. It was already crawling with people when she got there, and it took her a moment to find Oliver and Tommy. They were talking with a statuesque brunette wearing a short black dress with a plunging back. On anyone else it would look vulgar, but the woman made it look elegant.

Oliver caught her gaze over the woman's shoulder and she gave him a small wave. The woman noticed Oliver's diverted attention and she glanced back. Her eyes travelled down Felicity's dress and as she neared the woman said, "Now that is a _dress_."

"Thank you," Felicity said. "Yours is great, by the way. Not many people can pull off a plunging back without looking like they belong on a corner." The woman's eyes widened slightly, Tommy smirking beside her, and Felicity quickly added, "But you can pull it off. Very well, in fact." Felicity swallowed hard. "I really didn't mean to accidentally offend you."

"A foot in the mouth after five seconds," Tommy noted. "That's a record."

Felicity gave him a look and then held her hand out to the woman. "I'm Felicity. Felicity Smoak."

"I'm Laurel Lance," the woman said, taking her hand and executing a surprisingly firm handshake. Felicity pulled back, impressed.

"So, have you guys seen my sister?" Laurel asked. "She's supposed to be around here somewhere."

"I think she was by the bar," Oliver offered.

Laurel grinned. "Of course she is. Well, I'll see you guys later. It was nice meeting you, Felicity."

She sauntered off toward the bar and Tommy let out a low whistle. He leaned in toward Oliver and said, "Tell me again why neither of us have gone after her?"

"Because she would laugh in our faces?" Oliver said. He glanced toward Felicity and explained, "I grew up with Laurel. She pretty much sees me as asexual."

"She didn't grow up with me," Tommy noted. "Excuse me, friends, I think one Laurel Lance is in need of someone to buy her a drink."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head as he watched Tommy go after Laurel. "That is going to blow up in his face."

"Luckily, it's Tommy, so he'll be over it the second after it happens," Felicity offered.

Oliver grinned. "That is very true."

They fell silent for a moment, and his eyes made quick stock of her dress, hair, and makeup. She curled her hair for the night, making a deep part and letting the curls cascade over her shoulder. She kept her makeup light, save for the crimson red on her lips.

"You look nice tonight," he said.

The compliment felt strange coming from him, and she cleared her throat a bit before saying, "Thank you."

"I like your hair like that. But…" he hesitated before reaching forward and tucking her hair behind her ear. "…that's better. You shouldn't cover your face."

Her stomach was squirming and she could still feel the exact spot where his fingers had brushed her skin when he tucked her hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat again and then glanced around, looking for some distraction, and then she found it.

"I think I spy some beef skewer thingies," she told Oliver.

He nodded, all business, and said, "Well, then lead the way."

* * *

 

Meanwhile, at the bar, Tommy was doing his best to woo Laurel Lance. It didn't have the best start. She'd shot down his offer to buy her a drink with the reminder that it was an open bar. When he offered to buy her one another time, she'd laughed in his face. But Tommy, if anything, was persistent.

"Tell me," Sara began, sidling up to Tommy at the bar. He had his back against it, and was watching the couples dance, one of them being Laurel and Starling's DA. "What are your intentions with my sister?"

Tommy glanced over at her. "You cut right to the chase."

"I don't believe in formalities," she returned easily. "Besides, formalities are for civilized people, and we both know that doesn't include you."

He laughed. "Fair enough. My intentions are to woo your sister."

Sara snorted. "Good luck with that."

"I am a very persistent man. When I set my mind to something, it usually happens."

Sara reached over and plucked the whiskey from his hand, taking a sip. "That may be true. But I'd put money on my sister before you."

"Well, then tell me," he began, grabbing his whiskey back from her. "How do I woo your sister?"

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he returned, punctuating the statement by raising his whiskey tumbler. "Share your wisdom with me, elder lady Lance."

"Okay. First off, turn off the bullshit. I know it's basically your default setting, but she won't take you seriously."

"I resent that," Tommy scoffed.

"Resent all you want, but this is how it's going to be if you have any chance with my sister. And no cheesy lines. She hates those."

"I don't do cheesy."

Sara snorted. "You just called me elder lady Lance. It doesn't get much more cheesy than that."

"That's not cheesy, it's clever."

"Are you going to argue with me the entire time or actually shut up and listen to my advice?" Sara demanded. "Because I have a lot of other things I could be doing right here."

"Like what? We're all captives here."

That drew a sliver of a smile from Sara, and she paused for a moment before plucking the whiskey back from him and saying, "Fair enough. So, next…"

 

* * *

 

"I think I just ate my weight in these beef skewers," Felicity said, her hand resting on her stomach. "I sort of feel bad. I think we've single handedly made the waiters run back to get more."

"I feel good about this," Oliver returned. "I feel like I've eaten more than my fair share of them. Tonight will be counted as a success."

She grinned up at him. "That's how you gage a night? How many beef skewers you've eaten?"

"Not exactly. But I do grade these events on the quality of their food. One time they served nothing but vegetarian options. That one was a solid C-."

"You're a harsh critic. How's tonight going?"

"The verdict is still out, but it's looking good."

The band shifted into _Begin the Beguine_ , and Felicity smiled, swaying slightly to the music.

"I love this song. It's an underused standard. So much better than the other stuff."

"What is it?"

" _Begin the_ _Beguine_ ," she said. "I think it's one of the most romantic songs. I love the melody."

Oliver nodded, glancing toward the dance floor, and then held his hand out to her. She grinned, shaking her head as she murmured, "We don't have to."

"I want to," he said. "I rarely ever dance at these things but it looks like fun. Come on, dance with me."

She hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and following him onto the dance floor. He stepped close to her and put a hand on her back, taking her hand with the other. She slid an arm around his shoulders, assuming the perfect form she'd learned from so many of these events over the years – not to mention a cotillion that she actively tried to block from her memory – and she felt herself fall into a familiar rhythm as they began to move.

Felicity always loved dancing. She wasn't the most coordinated in everyday life, but something about dancing had always clicked with her. The movements came easy to her, the rhythm easy to fall into. Oliver was a decent partner. He didn't step on her toes, and she could feel him actually leading. So often, she'd dance with a guy and they'd hardly move. With Oliver, though, they moved across the dance floor with ease.

"You're good at this," she said, noticing that they were getting a few looks.

"You too," he said. "But let's see how good."

He squeezed her hand and then he threw her out into a spin. She spun back fluidly, their chests pressing together as she laughed breathlessly. His arm had snaked tighter around her waist when she knocked into him, and he kept her close as he murmured, "Not bad."

His warm breath bathed her face and she pulled back slightly as they began to dance again. They were pulling out moves that she only vaguely remembered back from her dance lesson days, but her body remembered, moving fluidly from one move to the next. Even when she was unsure, his steady hands were there to guide her in the right direction. When the end of the song came he sent her into another spin, and when she returned dropped her into a dip. Her entire body thrummed with energy when he pulled her back toward him, their noses almost touching. She hadn't realized how close they'd gotten, but she didn't pull away, instead studying his eyes as they both breathed heavily, oblivious to the gazes from both on and off the dance floor. His eyes darted to her lips, which were parted slightly, her breath now caught in her throat when his hand pressed on her lower back.

The band struck up the next song and the moment was broken. She pulled away from him, reaching up and pushing her hair off her damp shoulders. He tilted his head toward the bar and she nodded, following him. Tommy and Sara were there, engaged in some animated conversation. Tommy interrupted the conversation, though, to tell Felicity and Oliver, "That was some serious Dirty Dancing shit out there. I didn't know you guys could dance like that."

"Your mother will be happy to see all those dance lessons paid off," Sara added with a grin.

"You do realize now, Oliver, that every woman here will want to dance with you." He glanced at Felicity and said, "You unleashed a monster."

Oliver laughed. "I'm going to give all the credit to my dance partner."

"And I'll take said credit," Felicity interjected, her insides still quaking just a bit from before. She saw a few people walk into the country club's courtyard, and the prospect of fresh air seemed better than alcohol. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

She didn't wait for an answer, walking quickly to the door and stepping outside. The courtyard wasn't too crowded – only a few people out by the balcony admiring the grounds – and she happily took a deserted corner. She heard the door open behind her and she glanced back, half expecting to see Oliver. It wasn't him. Instead, some older man walked out and she couldn't decide if the feeling that flooded her chest was relief or disappointment.

Some time later she went back inside. Tommy and Sara were still by the bar, but Oliver was no longer there. A quick scan of the room found him at one of the tables talking with a leggy redhead. She nodded to herself, thinking that in the time she'd spent outside everything seemed to have righted itself.

She walked over to Tommy and said, "Do you think I've put in my face time by now? My couch is calling out to me."

"Considering that my grandmother is on her fifth glass of wine right now, I think you're good."

"Alright, then I am going," she said, leaning in and kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Don't stay out too late, now. I'm sure you have a lot of _Vampire Diaries_ to get through tomorrow."

"By _Vampire Diaries_ she means feeding lots of orphaned children," Tommy told Sara.

Felicity headed out, paying Oliver one parting glance as she walked by. The redhead had her hand on his shoulder and was leaning forward as she said something. He looked up at Felicity right when she went to turn her head and she gave him a small wave. She could see him begin to stand, but she was already on her way out of the country club, leaving him and the evening behind.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter I've written for this so far! Hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> Reminder - I am posting all the chapters from FF.net on here. So, you may have read this already. There is one chapter left and then you'll all be caught up with FF.net. Also, I am Spykid18 over there so...no plagiarism!

Chapter Four

There were few things that Tommy Merlyn was absolutely sure of in life. He knew that Coca Cola tasted infinitely better than Pepsi. Eating an order of El Torro quesadillas after drinking meant he never got a hangover. And recruiting Felicity Smoak to be a part of his team for the annual Starling Prep Beer Olympics was a terrible idea.

It really was a terrible idea. The worst. She could hardly get down more than two beers in a night, but his team's token female moved to San Diego last month, and if they didn't get a girl on the team they'd be disqualified. Having won for the past four years, Tommy didn't want his streak to end because of something as avoidable as a disqualification for improper gender ratio. So, steeling himself for the possibility that he was making a very, very bad decision, he pulled the cousin card and asked Felicity to agree to play.

"Is there really no one else you can ask?" she tried, sitting with him and Oliver in their apartment. She seemed to always be there lately. They'd come to her townhome a few times, but to be honest, it felt weird. "What about Laurel?"

"Laurel is heading up her own team," Oliver said.

"It's full of lawyers," Tommy said unhappily. "A bunch of alcoholics in training. How are we supposed to compete with that?"

"I thought you won this a bunch of times before?" Felicity said.

"Yes, but that's when we had Sandy Bergman. That girl could slam a beer like a frat boy on homecoming. Not to mention Laurel didn't have half her team. It used to just be Starling Prep alums, but people had trouble forming teams this year – people moving away and stuff – so we opened it up."

"There's really no other female you can grab? I mean, really, pick someone off the street. They'd be better than me."

"No, at least we know your deficiency," Tommy said. She knew she should be somewhat offended by that, but she decided to let it go. There'd likely be many more options for her to choose from over the next days when deciding where to incite her ire. "We can work around it."

"We'll put you in the easier events," Oliver explained. "Pair you up with some of the lightweights."

"Exactly," Tommy said, nodding. "We also will be having lessons beforehand."

Felicity stared at her cousin. "Excuse me?"

"It's nothing major, just teaching you the basics."

"Basics being…" Felicity asked leadingly.

"How to play beer pong," Tommy began, listing them off on his fingers. "How to play flip cup-"

"How to chug," Oliver interjected.

"That's a definite," Tommy said, nodding.

"Okay, first of all, I've played beer pong before," Felicity told them. "And flip cup sounds pretty self explanatory."

"It's less to teach you than for us to see just how bad you are at them," Tommy said. When Felicity gave him a look he added, "It's really for your benefit, Felicity. Let us help you."

"Let you help me with the thing I'm only doing because you pulled the cousin card?" she asked drily.

Tommy nodded. "Exactly."

"Fine," she sighed. "But we're doing all these lessons in one day."

"Works for me. How about tomorrow? Oliver and I have some work to do at the club this afternoon." Felicity nodded. "We'll have everything set up for you."

"What the hell do you need to set up?"

The next day, Felicity had her answer. The boys had set up a virtual circuit of drinking games for the lesson. The kitchen table had red Solo cups lined up in the classic beer pong design. They'd moved the coffee table somewhere, and in its place was an old folding table with cups lined up on the edges for what she could only assume was flip cup. And there, on the couch in front of the folding table, was an unopened case of Heineken.

"You guys take this way too seriously," Felicity said, taking off her coat and putting it on the couch next to the beer.

"No such thing," Tommy said, walking out of his bedroom. "I didn't hear a knock, by the way."

"Who needs to knock when you have a key?" Felicity returned, holding up the key that they'd given her a few days prior.

"That's supposed to be for emergencies, you know."

"It is an emergency. I really need to pee."

Tommy laughed. "Alright, go fast. We have a lot of work to do!"

She went into the bathroom and closed the door. It was messier than usual, toiletries left out beside the sink. She used the bathroom, and after as she washed her hands her gaze lingered on the bottle of aftershave resting beside the hand soap. There was no hand towel in the bathroom, and not wanting to use their regular towels – who knows where they'd been – she wiped her hands on her pants, gaze returning to the bottle of aftershave. After a moment of hesitation she reached over and picked up the bottle, unscrewing the top. She lifted the bottle to her nose and immediately recognized the scent. It was Oliver.

She put it back quickly, making sure that it was in somewhat of the same position as it had been before. When she walked out both Oliver and Tommy were waiting for her, sprawled out on the couch with the beer pushed to the far corner. The box was open now, and both of them had a can in their hand. Another unopened one rested on the table, and she asked, "Is that one for me?"

"It sure is. Lesson one – how to chug."

"You guys do realize I have to drive after this, right?"

"We have a big pizza dinner planned after this," Tommy returned easily. "You'll be fine by the time you leave. If not, Oliver or I will serve as your chauffer. Hat and all."

She smirked. "Please tell me you have an actual chauffer hat."

"Let's get back to the task at hand," Tommy said, ignoring her question. "Chugging. It is the most overlooked – and yet most important – skill utilized in the Beer Olympics. One cannot underestimate the power of effective chugging."

"It was the Achilles heel of the Lance team last year," Oliver intoned.

"It one hundred percent was," Tommy agreed. "And so, to have a chance of reclaiming that first place prize – "

"What is the prize?" Felicity interrupted. "Is there a trophy or something?"

"No, there's no trophy," Tommy said irritably.

"Then what's the prize?"

"The glory and honor of being the Beer Olympics champions," Tommy said quickly. "And, you know, a medal. Now, can we please get back to chugging?"

"Fine. I can't chug, by the way. I run out of breath."

"That is because you are chugging incorrectly," Tommy enthused. "The key, is to not actively swallow. You let the beer just slide down your throat and you finish quicker."

Felicity frowned. 'That makes no sense. How do you not swallow?"

"Oliver," Tommy said crisply. "I think it's time for a demonstration. Fresh beer, please."

Oliver handed Tommy a beer and he pulled the tab until the can popped open on top.

"Now, watch and learn."

He brought the beer up to his mouth and then tipped his head back. Felicity watched as he downed the can, his throat barely moving. When he was finished he handed her the empty can with a triumphant grin. Felicity glanced down at it and murmured, "What was it that you were saying about you driving me home?"

"Don't worry, I have a very efficient liver."

"Sure," she muttered.

"Now, it's your turn," Tommy said, grabbing the beer from the table and holding it out to her. She opened the can, the yeasty smell of beer hitting her nose. She always thought it smelled a bit like bread, which made sense considering there was yeast in it. Tommy waited anxiously for her to begin, while Oliver seemed to be more along for the ride. Figuring that the sooner she downed the beer the sooner they could be done and order that pizza, she began to chug.

Or at least she thought she did.

"No, no, you're doing it all wrong," Tommy said immediately, pulling the can from her mouth. "Your _swallowing_."

"I'm drinking something, Tommy. Of course I'm swallowing."

"You just need to relax your throat."

"How?"

Tommy paused for a moment, and then began with "I'm sure there have been other times…in your personal life…that you've done things where you've had to relax your throat. Just do that."

"Oh gross," she said, turning beet red as she caught where he was going.

"I'm just saying-"

"No, don't say anything. You are no longer allowed to say things."

"Why don't we move on to the beer pong?" Oliver suggested, getting up from the couch. "The rest of us can cover her for chugging."

"But chugging is _everything_ ," Tommy complained. He followed Oliver, though, Felicity behind him as she began to wonder why she was doing this in the first place.

She thought it even more when she completely sucked at beer pong. She didn't even get near the cups. Most of the time she didn't get near the table, completely overshooting and ending up with the ball rolling toward the kitchen. She could see the boys visibly deflating as she demonstrated just how much of a handicap she would be to their team.

And then she surprised everyone – including herself – by having a natural knack for flip cup.

"I don't believe this," Tommy said, watching her go down the row of cups, easily flipping each one on its top. "She's our flip cup ringer. After the other events, _no one_ will see this coming."

Oliver grinned. "We might be able to win again this year, after all."

 

* * *

 

The Beer Olympics traditionally took place on a Saturday at one of the Harris twins' houses because it had a good backyard and a pool for after the tournament when everyone was wasted and jumping in clad in boxers and bras and panties seemed like a good idea. Felicity had always been a competitive person, and she found herself swept up in the energy of the day. Sure, she thought the entire thing was pretty stupid, but that didn't stop her from wanting to win.

Tommy was already commenting on their future victory. Unfortunately, his audience was not as receptive as he would have liked.

"I don't really care who wins," Sara said with a shrug. "I'm just here for the free beer."

"That goes completely against the spirit of the Beer Olympics," Tommy said. "You're supposed to be invested."

"I am," Sara said, taking a long pull from her bottle of beer. "I am very invested in all the free beer."

Tommy shook his head. "I don't even know what to say to that."

"Tommy at a loss for words, that's a first," Laurel said, joining them. "Are you ready to get your ass kicked?"

"Now here is the sort of trash talking I'm looking for," Tommy said appreciatively. "I mean, it's a sorry cover for the fact that you have a weak team. But, I'll allow it."

Laurel smirked. "We're going to wipe the floor with you guys. Just wait."

Oliver walked over, slinging an arm around Tommy's shoulders. "Monohan said he wants to start. It's opening ceremony time. Let's get the team together."

Tommy gave Laurel one parting competitive glance before walking with Oliver over to the rest of the team. Felicity stood with Marc, Brandon, and Timmy – the remaining three of the team – and Oliver put his hands on her shoulders as he said, "Just remember what we taught you and you'll be fine."

"I'm ready," she said fiercely. "We're going to win this."

He grinned. "You and Tommy have never seemed more related than right now."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," she said, turning toward the polo-clad-guy who had just emerged from the house with an actual megaphone.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the sixth annual Starling Prep Beer Olympics!"

The sound was booming and Felicity winced as she leaned in toward Oliver and said, "Is the megaphone really necessary?"

He nodded. "It's tradition."

"Let's get things rolling with a rundown of our events today," megaphone guy boomed. "We'll be starting out with the classic volume chug. Then, we'll be moving on to beer pong, funnel relay race, Louisville chugger. And we will be closing with the ever-popular-and-ever-brutal…flip cup! Now, teams, head on over to the picnic table for volume chug."

They walked over to the picnic table, and Felicity noticed the rather large buckets filled nearly to the brim with beer. It looked like chugging would be up first.

"How much is in each of those?" Felicity asked Oliver.

"Six cans. One for each team member."

The teams gathered around their individual buckets and megaphone guy quickly went through the rules. It was pretty basic. Everyone had to chug as much as they could from the bucket. The team who finished with the fastest time won. Points were taken off for excessive amounts of beer spilled. Tommy gave her a knowing look at that part, and sent him a death glare.

"Alright, ready…set…CHUG!"

Tommy started the team off, picking up the hulking bucket and chugging with gusto, beer splashing on his shirt and rolling down the sides of his mouth. She laughed at him, until it was her turn, and she realized just how hard it was to drink from a bucket. It was nearly impossible to get it all into your mouth, and then if you tipped the bucket too much it went up your nose. She did the best she could, and then handed the bucket over to Oliver. Thankfully, the rest of the team finished off the beer bucket. They finished at a respectable second, although Tommy wasn't happy, namely because it was Laurel Lance smiling at him pointedly, empty beer bucket held above her head.

Next, it was on to beer pong, and as only two team members needed to compete, she rightfully sat this round out. She'd been awful sober, and now with her head buzzing like a bumble bee, she doubted she could even throw the small ping pong ball straight. She leaned heavily against the fence, watching Oliver and Tommy go to bat for their team. A tall brunette settled against the fence beside her and casually said, "So, you're the cousin."

She glanced up at him. "Yes, I am. And who are you?"

He grinned. "Evan Roberts. '05 graduating class."

She snorted. "Do you always give your graduating class when you introduce yourself?"

He laughed, running his fingers through his hair. It was nice hair. Wavy and just a little long on the top.

"No, just a force of habit here. People are always wondering when you graduated."

"Ah, I see."

There was a loud cheer from the rest of her teammates and Felicity's attention snapped to the beer pong table. Tommy and Oliver were high fiving and she told her new friend, "You're distracting me."

"I'm sorry," he said with a grin. "By all means, watch the game. Oliver and Tommy are pretty phenomenal. They're the best ones here."

"Don't tell them that. I'll never hear the end of it."

"I won't," he promised. "You know, you never did tell me your name."

"Felicity," she returned promptly. "Felicity Smoak."

"Well, Felicity Smoak, I wish you nothing but good luck going forward in this competition."

"You too, Evan Roberts."

Felicity watched him walk off toward his team members and then turned her attention back to the game. It only took a second before someone took Evan's spot beside her. She glanced over and found herself face-to-face with Sara Lance.

"Be careful with that one," she said, nodding toward where Evan had walked off to. "He has wandering hands."

"We were just talking."

"Sure. He's always just talking with girls."

Oliver executed a perfect throw for the game winning point and her team cheered loudly while Sara clapped appreciatively. When Laurel glared at her Sara threw up her hands and said, "It was a good throw."

"Loyalty, Sara. Look it up in a dictionary."

Oliver and Tommy returned to their team, arms held triumphantly over their heads as Tommy bellowed, "That's how you play a game of pong!"

He walked over to Sara and Felicity and asked if they were impressed, directing the question more to Sara than Felicity.

"I don't know. It looked to me like Oliver was carrying you guys that round."

"Ouch," Tommy said, covering his chest with his hands dramatically. "You wound me, Lance."

Felicity didn't pay much attention to the other games of beer pong, joking around with her team, instead. A bottle of Jack Daniels appeared at some point and they were passing it around, becoming increasingly buzzed as the whiskey mixed with the copious amounts of beer they'd already consumed. Felicity began to feel like her head wasn't attached to her head, but in a good way. She felt weightless, like if she took a running leap she'd find herself up in the clouds.

The beer pong game ended, the winning teams getting their respective points, and then it was time for the funnel race. Unbeknownst to Felicity, there was supposed to be someone at the other end of the relay who served as a body shot. But, arguing that it was a sexist convention, the female participants nixed that part of the race and instead put an Irish car bomb at the end.

"Make sure to drink it fast," Oliver advised her, standing with her at the start line. It was Tommy and her for this event, as it had to be a female and a male. "Otherwise the Baileys curdles."

Felicity's stomach churned. "Please do not say the word curdle."

Oliver laughed. Across the backyard megaphone guy announced the beginning of the race, and then switched to a whistle to officially kick it off. Felicity watched Tommy get down on one knee, one of the guys holding a funnel above him and pouring beer into the top.

"Drink Tommy!" Felicity yelled, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Driiiinnnkkkk!"

Tommy finished just behind Laurel and he ran toward Felicity, arms flailing wildly in an attempt to go faster. Felicity went down into a soft lunge, ready to launch off the ground the moment he tagged her. Just as Tommy neared her his toe caught a rock embedded in the ground and he tripped, on the way down to the ground yelling, "No!"

Miraculously, he managed to tap the edge of her shoe, and she was off running toward the bomb station. She could hear her team cheering her on behind, and she ran with everything she had until she reached the station and then she dropped the shot of Baileys into the Guinness and remembering Oliver's advice earlier, took it down as quickly as she could. Finished, she slammed the beer stein down on the table and ran as fast as she could back to her team. She felt like she couldn't breath when she finally reached them, her sides hurting and head spinning. Tommy grabbed her around the waist and picked her up, spinning her around. It wasn't until she was back on the ground, and her eyes found center again, that she realized she'd gotten back first.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Tommy yelled happily.

She sat out the Louisville Chugger, taking a seat on the soft grass as she watched team members drink out of the plastic bat, spin around ten times, and then attempt to hit the aerial empty beer can. No one hit the beer can, and it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. She was on her side laughing, the grass against her cheek, and then someone was pulling her up, saying, "Time to shine, Smoak. It's flip cup time."

Flip cup was a disaster. Any talent she had while sober was completely eradicated by all the alcohol, but somehow they still came in second. One of their teammates ended up being her opposite – awful sober but amazing drunk – and they happily took their runner-up status for the round. The festivities over the afternoon, the teams meandered back to the patio for the closing ceremonies. Megaphone guy took his rightful place in front of the crowd and drummed up the anticipation as he recapped the events.

"And now…the winner of the sixth annual Starling Prep Beer Olympics is…drumroll please…" everyone did their own version of a drumroll, resulting in loud yelling rather than actual drum rolling, "…your winner is Team Merlyn!"

And at that moment, as he vomited in a set of bushes, Tommy Merlyn won his fifth Beer Olympics.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon's competitive drinking events devolved into a group of people drunkenly yelling at each other inside the Harris twin's house, not because anyone was angry but because yelling had become the resident inside voice.

"Fireball shots!" Tommy yelled, the tacky gold medal for first place hanging around his neck. He walked around making people kiss it like the Godfather's ring. "Everyone gather! Fireball!"

"Dude, there's not enough in the bottle for everyone," one of the Team Lance people shouted.

"Well, then get another bottle. Obviously."

Miraculously, the Harris twin reached under the sink and pulled out another bottle, much to everyone's excitement. It was up to the most sober person to pour the shots, and everyone unanimously agreed that that person was Felicity. She sloppily poured the shots, getting just about as much liquor on the counter as in the shot glasses.

"To another year of Beer Olympics!" Tommy said, raising his shot glass high and spilling half the Fireball on the floor in the process. Everyone shouted back roughly the same thing, save for the one person who for some reason yelled, "To Paul Revere!"

The liquor burned on its way down and Felicity coughed, slapping her chest with the palm of her hand as she willed the burning to go away. When it did she smiled happily to herself, looking around for someone familiar to talk with.

Evan watched her from the edge of the room, slowly taking a sip of his drink. Oliver stood beside him, and Even leaned in as he murmured, "I'm so hitting that tonight."

Oliver had been watching Tommy attempt to get his arm around Sara Lance, and looked at Evan in confusion. "What?"

"That Felicity girl. Tommy's cousin? She's hot, isn't she?"

Oliver bristled. "She has a boyfriend."

"Is it you?" Evan asked casually.

"No, of course not," Oliver said.

"Then it doesn't matter," Evan returned with a wolfish grin. "If you'll excuse me. I have someone I need to talk to."

Oliver watched him go off toward Felicity, his jaw tensing. But it wasn't his business. Felicity was a big girl. She could take care of herself. It wasn't his place to interfere. Yet.

 

* * *

 

Tommy walked out onto the back porch, eyes landing on Sara Lance sitting by herself on one of the lawn chairs. He wondered where she'd gone. The crowd from the kitchen had dissipated after another round of shots, and then he noticed a certain Lance sister was absent from the festivities.

He pulled another lawn chair beside her and sat down clumsily. She glanced over at him and murmured, "Of course it's you."

"Why are you out here?" he asked.

"It was too much togetherness for me," she said. "It was ruining my beer."

"I hear that," he said, clinking his beer against hers.

"Really?" she asked with a small grin. "You seemed pretty in your element in there with all the togetherness."

"Yeah, well, anything gets old after sometimes. You know…after…things."

Sara smirked. "You're drunk."

"I resent that. I hold my liquor wonderfully."

"I never said you didn't," Sara returned. "Although that tumble you took during the funnel race does sort of work against you."

"You cannot blame me for an uneven surface."

Sara snorted. "Fair enough."

"So, you think Laurel was impressed by my winning?" Tommy asked, stretching his legs out in front of him and settling further back into the chair.

"I think she wanted to kick your ass."

Tommy grinned. "What about you? Were you impressed?"

Sara hesitated for a moment and then clinked her beer against his. "Sure, Tommy."

* * *

 

Felicity didn't know how it happened. They were talking and then he was saying it was loud, and suddenly they were in a corner, in a room with a closed door, and he was running a hand up her leg. He was murmuring something, but she couldn't understand him, her mind too muddled and squishy. All she could catch were sounds, and then his hand was still on her leg.

"Stop," she mumbled, pushing his hand off of her.

"Come on, we're just having fun," he said, grinning down at her. He pressed himself closer, his hips pressing against hers. "You're having fun, right?"

"No, stop," she said, trying to push him away but he only edged closer. He dipped his head to hers and brushed his mouth against her cheek.

"Just relax," he murmured against her skin. "We're having a good time."

She wasn't, in fact, having a good time and she felt an uneasiness flood her chest when she stared at that closed door behind them and how it was very possible that no one knew where they were, and no one cared. She wanted to get out of the room – needed to – but her limbs didn't seem to remember how to work. His hand went higher, and she tried to remember anything she'd learned from those self defense classes her mom had forced her to take when she first lived by herself. She remembered something vaguely, but not enough to actually use. But then she remembered something else, a scene from one of her favorite movies, _Miss Congeniality._

_When all else fails…just remember to S.I.N.G._

She turned her body and drove the sharp edge of her elbow up under his ribcage . She could hear him exhale sharply, and he pulled back just enough for her to slam her heel down onto the top of his foot. In quick succession she thrust her palm into his nose and delivered a quick knee-hit to his groin. He stumbled back, pain twisting his features as he spat out, "What the fuck?"

His nose was bleeding and he looked just about as pissed off as she'd seen someone. Quickly she tore from the room, glancing over her shoulder to see him stalking after her, and she ran directly into one Oliver Queen. His hands slid around the curve of her shoulders, and he took in her mussed hair and how her eyes were watery.

"Felicity, what – "

It was then that Evan walked out behind her with a slight limp and bloody nose. Before Felicity knew what happened Oliver had Evan up against a wall, his arm crushing Evan's windpipe as he demanded, "What did you do to her? You tell me! What the hell did you do?"

She knew she should stop him, but suddenly she felt her stomach churn, and she was running toward the bathroom, a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to shut the door behind her, but it was still half open when she kneeled hastily in front of the toilet, feeling as if her entire body was dying.

Behind her she could hear Tommy getting involved, and him yelling, "What did he do? He was on my cousin? You son of a bitch!"

Felicity shakily reached out toward the door and pulled it closed. She scooted herself over to the wall and leaned her head against it, closing her eyes. The spinning in her head was slowing down, and she was beginning to feel like a human being again.

She didn't' know how long she was in there on the bathroom floor, but then the door opened and Oliver crouched in front of her, Tommy behind him.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry that I caused so much trouble."

"Don't you apologize for that piece of shit," Tommy bit out. "I should have been watching out for you."

"It's okay. I'm fine, really," she said. "It wasn't that bad. I handled it."

An unexpected grin spread of Tommy's face. "Yeah, I saw what you did to his nose."

"All I did was sing," Felicity said, beginning to stand. Oliver took a hold of her arm and helped her.

"All you did was sing? I don't get it." Tommy said.

"Wait, that's from _Ms. Congeniality_ , isn't it?" Oliver said.

"You got it," Felicity said, trying to give him a thumbs up, but raising the wrong finger.

"How the hell did you know that?" Tommy asked, stepping aside as Felicity and Oliver slowly walked out of the bathroom.

"I have a sister."

"Oh, yes, the delightful Thea," Tommy said, following them. "Sometimes I forget about her."

 

* * *

 

The three of them took a cab back to Oliver and Tommy's apartment, and she spent the night on their couch. She couldn't sleep, though, so she spent most of the night watching E! shows on mute. It was the rare channel where facial expressions sufficed.

Around ten Oliver walked out of his bedroom and stopped short when he saw the television was on. He walked over and peered over the couch, smiling sheepishly when Felicity was there looking up at him.

"Hey there, I was just getting some water."

"You're not bothering me," she said.

He went over to the kitchen and poured some tap water into a tall glass. He walked back to where Felicity was and said, "You know, you don't have to mute it. I'm up and Tommy can sleep through just about anything."

"I like it on mute. I get to guess at what's happening."

He laughed, and sat on the edge of the couch, lifting her feet and putting them on his lap.

"So, what's happening now?" he asked, gesturing toward the television.

"Well, Kim definitely just told Kris that her and Kanye are going to open a fashion line called Directionless."

"Directionless, huh?"

"It's ironic, because all of their names are directions now. Kanye West. Kim West. North West."

"That is just genius," Oliver said with feigned admiration. "I think you are dead on with your storyline guessing."

"I know."

They settled into a comfortable silence, her watching the action on the screen and him pretending to watch, but actually spending more time watching her. He just kept thinking back to how she looked when she left that room, Evan behind her.

"Please stop," Felicity murmured.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like I'm a victim," Felicity said. "I'm fine."

"I should have known he would try something. He said he was interested, but I thought he was harmless."

"He was harmless," she said. "I took him out and I have zero upper body strength."

"He could have hurt you," Oliver held.

"Yes, he could have," Felicity relented. She remembered how strong he seemed in the moment and how for just a moment, she'd thought of what would have happened if she hadn't remembered how to defend herself. "But he didn't. He didn't, Oliver."

His hand curled around her ankle and she wiggled her foot, making him smile slightly.

"Well, you should try to get some sleep," Oliver said. "You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"I do?" she asked, watching him stand up.

"Your first Beer Olympics hangover. It's a bitch."

She frowned. "I didn't think of that."

"I'll see you on the other side. I'll have coffee and hash browns," he said, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. He hovered above her for a moment before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, Felicity."

She was too stunned to respond, and it was only when he'd walked back to his bedroom, the door shutting with a soft click, that she murmured, "Good night, Oliver."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love your thoughts on this one!!


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Felicity sat in the center of the couch, settled low against the cushions with her feet on the coffee table and a large bowl of buttery popcorn in her lap. Tommy and Oliver were on either side of her, idly drinking beer along with the occasional handful of popcorn. They were watching The Prince & Me, a nondescript romantic comedy from the early 2000s that Felicity had brought over. While both men had initially put up resistance to watching what they deemed chick flicks, they found themselves becoming remarkably invested in the storyline.

They were at the point of the movie where the prince proposes to Julia Stiles, and they watched as Julie Stiles breathlessly says yes and the pair kisses.

"That's ridiculous," Tommy said, gesturing toward the screen with his bottle of beer. "They've known each other for five minutes."

"It's romantic," Felicity argued lightly. "And it's been at least three months."

"Would you accept a marriage proposal after three months?" Tommy asked pointedly.

Felicity considered this for a moment and then said, "If it was a prince directly in line for the throne, yes I would."

Oliver laughed. "Really?"

Felicity nodded. "I think I would make a phenomenal Queen. Plus, a tiara really suits the shape of my head."

"That's actually true," Tommy added. "She wore one at prom. It was a show stopper."

Felicity nodded in agreement, popping a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

"I still think this is a little rushed," Tommy held. "Speaking as your caring and protective cousin, I would not want you marrying a guy you knew for a few months, even if he was in line for the throne."

"Not to mention you're giving up your acceptance to John Hopkins," Oliver added, referring to the prior scene in the movie. "It seems like you're really changing yourself and your priorities for this prince."

"Oliver brings up an excellent point," Tommy chimed in.

Felicity glanced between them and then shook her head, leaning forward to pluck her glass of wine from the table. She took a sip and then said, "You guys are taking this movie way too seriously."

Her phone buzzed against her leg and she picked it up, glancing at the screen. It was a text from Nick and she swiped into the phone, sending a quick reply. Tommy was watching her and casually asked, "When's he coming in tomorrow?"

"It was supposed to in the afternoon. I was going to take him to that pumpkin patch right outside of town. But now he's not getting here until dinnertime."

"You were going to take him to a pumpkin patch?" Tommy asked, unable to hide the laughter from his voice.

"We like seasonal things," Felicity returned. "Besides, who doesn't like a good pumpkin patch?"

"A lot of people," Oliver said. She gave him a look and he added, "I, of course, have a hearty appreciation for them like you. But not everyone is as cultured as us."

"Nice save," Tommy said, snickering.

"I don't understand your aversion to fun," Felicity told Tommy. "Because that is exactly what seasonal activities are. I mean, haunted houses. Friendsgiving. Pumpkin carving! They are the definition of fun."

"I think your definition needs some refining."

Felicity shook her head, returning her attention to the television. Julia Stiles was just waking up, and her assistant came into the room to read her the schedule for the day. Felicity rolled her head to the side, resting it against the couch cushion.

"Being a princess looks like a lot of work," she said. "I don't know if I could handle being read my schedule every morning before I even get out of bed. You know how drowsy I am when I first wake up."

Tommy leaned forward, putting his empty beer bottle on the table, and quipped, "Well, then it's a good thing you're a commoner."

 

* * *

 

The next day Felicity rushed home from work to prepare for Nick staying the weekend. She'd been planning on taking the day off to spend with him, but when he told her the flight was delayed she'd come in anyway. Mr. Merlyn, though, noticing that she seemed distant, told her to take the afternoon off. She was grateful because there was a lot to do before Nick arrived. Per usual, she'd put off cleaning her apartment, and just like all the other times she procrastinated it ended up being a larger project than she anticipated.

Weeks of haphazardly cooking meals for herself left her kitchen in a complete disarray, and her rec room wasn't must better. By the time she finished those two rooms, all she had time for before rushing to the restaurant was quickly changing her sheets. She paid her room a quick glance before she left – thinking that it wasn't great but it didn't look awful, either. Besides, Nick knew her well enough to recognize that he was lucky for the minimal cleaning she'd done.

The restaurant was crowded when she got there, and she glanced around, trying to see if Nick was anywhere. After not seeing him, she walked over to the hostess and told her the name on the reservation she'd made that day prior.

The restaurant was one of those industrial looking places with a high ceiling and visible piping. There was a smattering of high top tables for smaller parties against one wall and larger tables spread out throughout the rest of the room. Surprisingly, there were no booths, which Felicity didn't mind. She hated booths, not liking how she had to scoot in and out. Her skirts always snagged on something and she'd be stuck in the booth, trying to discern where she was stuck. She noticed a bar set at the back of the restaurant and her eyes lingered on the rows of liquor bottles as the hostess led her to the table.

"Is this okay?" the hostess said, stopping at a high top a few feet from the bar.

"It's great. Thanks."

The hostess nodded. "I'll send your other party back here when he arrives."

"Thank you."

Felicity settled on one of the high stools, facing the bar. She checked her watching, hoping that Nick wasn't too far off. This was definitely a place where they'd lose the table if he was too late. When she glanced up she was surprised to find Oliver looking at her from the bar. He waved and walked over, smile pulling at his mouth.

"Are you stalking me?" Felicity asked lightly. "Because if you are, you're doing a really bad job."

He laughed. "No, I'm meeting someone for a drink. Is Nick here yet?"

"No, his flight must have been delayed or something," Felicity said. She laid her forearms on the table and leaned forward as she conspiringly said, "So, tell me about this person you're meeting for a drink. It's a woman, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Oliver said smoothly. "And that is the end of your line of questioning."

"That's not how it works," she told him with a goading grin. "What's her name? Where'd you meet her? Come on, give me some details."

Oliver shook his head slightly. "You're worse than Tommy."

"Don't dodge the question."

"Her name is Helena," he relented. "I met her when Tommy and I were out last night."

This surprised her and she asked, "So, is this a date?"

He thought about that for a moment and then said, "Yeah, I guess."

"I didn't think you went on dates."

"Who told you that?" he asked, sounding somewhat affronted.

"All my interactions with you for the past few months," she returned. "And, you know, Tommy."

He shook his head. "I date."

"Okay," she said slowly. She was ready to change the subject, but apparently he wasn't finished.

"Just because you haven't seen me date in the short time you've known me doesn't mean I don't. I do a lot of things you haven't personally seen yourself. You've never seen me brush my teeth. Does that mean I never do it?"

"Okay," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "You date. I get it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," he said in an unconvincing voice. She curled her hand around his arm and gave it a squeeze.

"I believe that you date. And brush your teeth."

He smiled slightly, covering her hand with his own. A waitress came over and Oliver stepped back, giving her room. She glanced over at Oliver, and then Felicity, and said, "Is this your other party?"

"No," Felicity said, as Oliver said much of the same. "I'm still waiting for him."

"Okay, can I get you a drink while you wait?"

"A glass of pinot noir, please," Felicity said. The waitress nodded, walking off. Oliver stepped forward again.

"You and Nick should go to Verdant after dinner. Tommy's there, and he'll comp your drinks."

She nodded. "I'll definitely run that past Nick." She saw a tall brunette in a clingy black dress walk to the bar. "I think your date might be here."

Oliver glanced back. "That's her."

"You better go over there. You don't want to keep her waiting."

"No, I don't. Enjoy your dinner. I'll see you sometime this weekend?"

"Yeah. You can meet Nick."

He nodded. "I look forward to it. Bye, Felicity."

"Bye, Oliver."

He walked back to the bar and she purposely averted her eyes, inwardly telling herself that it was not okay to proceed to watch his entire date while she waited for Nick. The waitress returned with her wine and she happily took a sip. At least she now had something to keep her company.

One glass of wine later Nick arrived. He rushed to the table, spouting some apology as she stood up and slipped her arms around his waist. Her head was buzzing just a bit from the wine and she kissed him on the mouth, staying there perhaps a moment too long for public.

"That was quite a hello," Nick said, pulling away with a slight smile.

"I've missed you," she said, sitting down. He followed suit across from her. "Was your plane delayed?"

"Yeah, we left late. I tried to call you, but I couldn't get through."

"Maybe the service was weird in the airport," she said, reaching forward and taking his hand. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You're here now."

He slipped his hand from hers, picking up his water and taking a sip. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for him to say something. Instead he picked up his menu and began to look through the pages. Felicity did the same, all the while glancing over the menu at him. He looked different. It took her a minute to place the change.

"Your hair is longer," she noted.

"Oh yeah," he said, glancing up at her. "I wear it longer now."

She nodded, returning her attention to her menu. For all the years she'd known him, he'd always worn his hair close cropped. He hated fuss, and when she looked at his hair now she could see the slightest hint of product beneath the lights.

"It looks nice," she said. He looked up at her with raised eye brows and she clarified, "Your hair. It looks nice like that."

"Thanks."

She continued to look at him, and slowly she began to notice other changes. The trendy watch on his wrist. How clean and trimmed his nails were.

"I think I'm going with the espresso rubbed filet," he said, breaking her from the internal examination she was engaged in. She blinked rapidly and he asked, "What about you?"

"Oh, um…" she looked down and scanned the menu quickly. "The cedar plank salmon, I think."

"Remember the salmon we had at that place in Kendall Square?" he said with the sort of grin that always made her stomach flip. It was a smile he only used for her.

"The Black Sheep," she said. It was where they went for their two year anniversary.

"I swear I still have dreams about that salmon. It was that good."

She grinned, feeling more comfortable. This was familiar to her, them talking about food. They'd spent entire nights back at MIT just talking about the menu at various restaurants around Cambridge.

"I think you're making the right choice," he said definitively, closing his menu. "As am I."

The waitress returned and they both ordered their meals, Nick also placing an order for calamari to start out with. They ordered it at basically any restaurant where it was on the menu. The waitress set off to the kitchen to place their order and Nick smiled casually at Felicity, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

"So, tell me all about Starling City."

 

* * *

 

A full meal, two glasses of wine, and half of a piece of tiramisu later, Felicity was feeling wonderful. Her body was practically purring from the delicious food and wine, and she had Nick again. She hadn't realized how much she missed him, and having him across from her at the table made everything better. The wine tasted sweeter. The salmon flakier and more complex.

"So, I was thinking…" she said, reaching forward and taking his hand. "Maybe we can get lunch with Tommy and his roommate Oliver tomorrow. You know Tommy, obviously, but Oliver really wants to meet you. I think you'll like him. He's really great."

"I bet he is," Nick said, squeezing her hand. "But, I'm actually catching a seven o'clock flight back to New York tomorrow morning."

She stared at him. "You're what?"

He drew his hand carefully from hers. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

"I've been thinking a lot about this. About us. We've been together for a while."

She nodded. "Yes, we have."

"And I care about you. You know that."

"I do."

She suddenly wished she had another glass of wine, because she had a feeling she was going to need it.

"But I think we both know this isn't working. We've been growing apart."

"It's long distance," she said. "We're just adjusting to it."

"Felicity-"

She shook her head, plowing through whatever he was trying to say.

"We knew it wouldn't be easy. We talked about this. It'll take some time to adjust. But we can do it. I know we can."

"Felicity," he said, voice raised. She fell silent, not wanting to hear what came next. His voice was softer when he said, "I'm in love with someone else."

She'd felt the breakup coming, but this she hadn't expected. It felt like a blow to her gut. He loved someone else. Nick, the person she loved. The person who was supposed to love her, loved someone else. That was jarring enough without the follow up that love didn't happen overnight, meaning that whoever he fell in love with had been in the picture at least for a little while, and she couldn't tell if the feeling rising in her chest was rage or vomit.

"You're in love with someone else," she repeated. "You just had an entire dinner with me. You sat here with me – going on about random shit and 'oh, remember that place we went to for our second anniversary?' – when you are _in love_ with someone else."

"Felicity, just let me-"

"You ass hole," she hissed, slamming her hands down on the table. A few people nearby glanced over and Nick said, "Calm down. Please."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? You had me sit through this dinner – go through this _entire_ charade – when you were just going to break up with me at the end? No, I won't calm down."

"I never meant to hurt you," he said fervently.

"Well, sorry buddy, it happened. You fell in love with someone else, which I'm taking to mean, also, that you _cheated_ on me. What did you _think_ would happen?"

"I…" he trailed off, obviously coming to the conclusion that there really was no other way this turn of events could have gone.

"I can't believe I wasted all these years on you," she said, shaking her head.

He stared down at his plate, avoiding her angry gaze. After a moment he glanced up and said, "This is probably out of the question, but is there any chance I could sleep on your couch tonight?"

Felicity's eyes widened with outrage. "No!"

"Of course not. That was stupid. I…" he stood up quickly, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, "…I'm just going to go. See if I can find a hotel room or something." He opened his wallet and pulled out a few twenty dollar bills. "This should cover dinner."

"I don't want your money," she spat. "I can pay for the meal myself."

He stayed frozen there for a moment, hand held out toward her with the bills clutched in his fingers. He checked himself, though, and pulled back, stuffing the bills back in the wallet and then his wallet back in his pocket. He seemed like he was going to say something, but then he thought against it and gave her a parting nod before heading out of the restaurant. Felicity watched him go, unsure whether she wanted to cry or scream.

There were a few bites of tiramisu left at the table and she picked up her fork, attacking them with a fervor unseen outside of breakups and famine. She was scraping up the last bits of mascarpone on the plate when Oliver sat down across from her.

"Everything okay?"

She kept her gaze trained on the plate, continuing to scrape at the mascarpone, as she said, "Nick and I just broke up. So…" she scraped angrily at the plate, "…no, everything's not okay."

He covered her hand with his and gently pulled the fork from her grasp.

"I think you got everything off that plate," he said, laying the fork down on his side of the table.

It seemed so sad in front of her – that empty plate. Before, it had been filled with so much tiramisu. So much promise. Now it was empty and barren, like her heart.

She glanced up at Oliver, eyes filling with tears.

"He's in love with someone else."

"I'm sorry," he said after a beat. "I'm really sorry, Felicity."

"I should have seen it coming," she said, shaking her head. "I knew his history. I knew about all the other women. But, he always came back to me. I thought that meant something. That I was, I don't know, the one he chose? The one he would always choose. But now he chose her."

"He's a jerk," Oliver said, reaching forward and wiping away an errant tear that had escaped down her cheek. "Anyone who would break up with you in a public place is a jerk. And a coward. And a total idiot, because whoever this other girl is, she can't be even half as wonderful as you are."

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

"You're sweet."

"I'm honest," he told her. "Forget about him. He's not worth your tears."

"You're right," she said, nodding. "I know you're right. But I still want to cry into a pint of Chubby Hubby."

"I think you're entitled to one night of that," he said with a slight grin. When she didn't say anything back he took a hold of her hand and said, "Everything will be okay. I know it doesn't seem that way right now, but it will."

He was so earnest sitting there with her hand in his and his eyes searching her face. It occurred to her that she wouldn't want anyone else sitting with her in that moment.

"You're good at that this stuff," she noted.

"I've had a lot of practice. Thea goes through a breakup about every other week."

She laughed a bit, something that felt remarkably nice. "Well, I better call Tommy. He's not going to like having to leave the club, but cousin duty calls."

"Why are you calling him?"

"I figured Nick would drive back so I had an extra glass of wine," she said, reaching down and picking up her purse.

"I can drive you home."

She shook her head. "You're on a date. Which, by the way, you should probably get back to."

"No, it's fine. I'll just go tell her that I have to help out a friend."

"Oliver, I can call Tommy," she said. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," he said. "But I want to."

She hesitated for a moment before relenting. "Okay, go tell her. I'll settle up the bill."

* * *

 

They didn't talk much on the drive home. She didn't have anything to say, and he followed her silence and didn't try to start conversation. She was grateful for that. After everything that happened, there was something comfortable with the silence.

He parked in front of her apartment and opened her door for her. Usually she would have balked at such blatant chivalry, but tonight she was too tired. All she wanted to do was crawl onto her couch and forget this day.

"Thank you for everything," she said after she'd opened her door and stepped inside. Oliver stood outside the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. "You were wonderful tonight. Really. Your date is a lucky girl."

"Are you sure you're okay being by yourself?" Oliver asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine, really. I just…need this night to be over. Which, thankfully, it almost is."

"Okay, well, I'll see you later then."

She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, nodding. "Yeah. I'll see you later."

She closed the door and then stood there for a minute, hand still on the doorknob and listening to him walk away. She'd wanted him to stay, but knew she really had no right to ask. He'd done enough, she wouldn't make him sit with her while she at ice cream and watched TV.

It had been a long time since her last breakup, but her remedy hadn't changed. She quickly gathered the basics and settled on the couch. Sleepytime tea, ice cream, and _Gilmore Girls_. She was ready to face her heartbreak.

She was halfway through the season two cotillion episode when there was a knock on her door. She stood up and walked over to the door, wondering who would be knocking on her door at this time of night. Fear gripped her suddenly when she imagined Nick standing on her doorway. With that image very much on her mind, she tentatively looked through the door's peephole, relieved when she saw Oliver and Tommy.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked after opening the door. She saw that Oliver was holding a bottle of red wine, Tommy held a pint of Cherry Garcia and Chubby Hubby in each hand.

"We're the cheer up committee," Oliver said. "We brought reinforcements in the form of wine and ice cream."

"I personally think we're just celebrating," Tommy piped in. "I mean, you finally being rid of Nick the Prick? That's reason for celebration."

Oliver shook his head and muttered, "Too soon, man."

"It's never to soon."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Just come in, guys."

They followed her into the apartment, Oliver closing the door, and Tommy noted the _Gilmore Girls_ playing on the television.

"I see your methods have not changed," he said.

"They work."

"I remember this episode," he said, settling on the edge of the couch. "That concerns me."

Felicity walked back from the kitchen, three spoons in her hand. Oliver followed with wine glasses. She settled on the couch beside Tommy, plucking the Chubby Hubby pint from him. She popped open the top, smirking when she saw several spoon marks in the ice cream.

"I might have gotten a little snacky on the drive here," Tommy said casually.

She dug her spoon in and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Oliver sat next to her, setting the glasses on the table and pouring them each a glass. Sitting there between her two favorite guys, Felicity thought to herself that maybe she didn't have things too bad. Sure, her boyfriend fell in love with someone else and told her over what could arguably be called a romantic dinner. But, she also had two amazing guys who gave up their Friday night to eat ice cream and watch _Gilmore Girls_ with her. She glanced at both of them, feeling a warmth spread in her chest.

Things weren't too bad, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have over at FF.net. You will now get updates with the other site :)


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 Three seasons. That was how many seasons of _Criminal Minds_ Felicity watched in one weekend, and she was damn proud of that number. It took dedication to get that sheer volume of episodes. It took declining plans and devoting full mornings, afternoons, and evenings to the couch and Netflix. But she'd done it easily. Maybe this weekend she could boost that number to four seasons. Then she'd only have three left before she was all caught up.

Most of her shows on Netflix were off limits after her breakup with Nick. He'd ruined so many shows for her now – _Alias, Parks & Recreation, Arrested Development _\- but _Criminal Minds_ was safe. He'd never liked it, and now she binged on it like a movie star huffing Oreos after an awards show.

Why did people need to leave their apartment for entertainment, anyway? What did a crowded bar or restaurant have that her apartment didn't? Ambiance? Her apartment was full of it. Social interaction? G-chat was only a click away on her laptop. She had everything she needed and more in her apartment. She had her laptop, a freezer stocked with ice cream, and an entire binder filled with takeout menus. Plus, she didn't have to wear pants.

Everything was perfect until Tommy barged into her apartment one Saturday afternoon. She yelped, scrambling to grab her blanket off the floor and cover her pant-less lower body.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, clutching the blanket around her waist.

Tommy, turned away from her with one hand outstretched, loudly returned, "Why aren't you wearing pants?!"

"I asked my question first!" she said petulantly. He was stilled turned away from her, one hand covering his eyes, and she sighed, "You can turn around. I'm decent now."

He tentatively glanced back, and when he saw the blanket on her lap he faced her.

"I'm here to save you from the hermit downward spiral you are currently on," Tommy explained. "Which, by the way, is worse than I thought it was. It's been two weeks, Felicity. It's time to move on. And, for the love of God, put on some pants."

"I have moved on," Felicity said. "I'm fine."

Tommy's eyes roved over the scene surrounding his cousin. There was a pile of Styrofoam takeout containers piled on the edge of the couch, and if the smell emanating from them told him anything, they'd been there for a while. Her coffee table – which typically was annoyingly tidy – looked like it was trashed by a grade school sleepover. From where he stood he could spot at least three bags of candy, and one sleeve of Oreos that was not even a quarter full.

And then there was Felicity, herself. She looked like she'd gone through hell, and in a way she had. Breakups sucked, especially when it was a relationship as long as hers and Nick's.

"You're not fine," Tommy said gently. "Not even remotely."

She looked to the side, jaw clenching, and he took it as an acquiescence to what he said.

"I'm getting there," she finally said. "To fine. I'm getting there. I just need…time. What happened came out of nowhere, Tommy. I mean, one minute we were sitting there talking about restaurants and then he was telling me he's in love with someone else."

"He's a piece of shit," Tommy said. "He's not worth this."

"I know," she said, picking at her blanket anxiously. "I _know_. But, I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to do this. How to be the person dumped."

He walked toward the couch and pushed over a pile of magazines to sit next to her.

"You just get through it," he said. "But you're not going to get through it sitting on this couch all day. You have to leave your apartment."

"I have left the apartment. I have a job, remember?"

Tommy gave her a look. "Stop fighting my advice."

"Sorry. Go on."

"I want you to come out with me tonight."

"No," she said immediately. She didn't like going out on a normal night, and with everything that happened? That sounded like torture.

"You need to get out," he said. "I think some fun would do you some good. It'll just be Verdant, nothing crazy. I'll even give you a time frame. Midnight. Just go out until midnight, and I _promise_ you will have a good time."

She still wasn't convinced and he said, "Have I ever led you astray before?"

"Yes. Many times."

He chuckled. "Harsh critic."

"I might still be holding a grudge for my Beer Olympics hangover."

"Hey, that hangover was a badge of honor. You worked hard for it."

She laughed softly, leaning her head back onto the couch cushion. She stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks.

"I just don't want to feel like this anymore," she said softly.

"Then come out tonight," Tommy said. "It can't hurt, right? It could even help."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Fine. But only until midnight."

"Well, of course. After that your cab turns into a pumpkin."

"And you're buying all my drinks."

"That goes without saying," he said. He stood up, arching his back as he stretched. "So, I will come here and pick you up at nine."

"You're picking me up? What, do you not trust me to show up on my own?"

"That's correct," he said promptly, ignoring the irritated look she shot him. "So, just to recap. Nine o'clock. Be ready. Fun times will be had."

"Whatever you say."

He grinned. "See you tonight."

She waved him off, already reaching toward her computer to start the next episode of _Criminal Minds_. As he closed the door behind him she heard him call out, "Don't forget pants tonight!"

 

* * *

 

Oliver sat on the couch, half-watching the Northwestern versus Illinois football game while he looked over supplier contracts for Verdant. He heard keys clanking outside the front door and then Tommy walked in, shutting the door behind him. His friend was grinning, looking unusually happy for a Saturday afternoon.

"Where were you at?"

The insinuation in his voice was clear, and Tommy said, "Don't make it weird. I was at Felicity's."

That grabbed Oliver's full attention, and he put the stack of contracts to the side.

"How is she?"

"In desperate need of a shower."

Tommy shrugged his coat off, tossing it over one of the kitchen table chairs. He went to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, grabbing a beer for himself.

"Do you want one?" he asked Oliver, holding up the beer.

"Uh, yeah, so did she seem okay? I mean, besides the shower thing?"

Tommy settled next to him, handing him an open beer. He took a pull off his own before answering.

"She seemed like someone who got dumped," Tommy said. "But we're going to fix that. I convinced her to go out tonight."

"You did?" Oliver said.

"Yeah. It'll be good for her. She's been spending all her time holed up in her apartment. It's no wonder she's not over him. What she needs is to be around people. Around other guys. See that there is a world outside of Nick the Prick."

"That's become his actual name to you, hasn't it?"

"You bet."

Oliver laughed, clinking his beer against Tommy's. "Well, Nick the Prick is right. You should have seen it all at the restaurant."

"It's a good thing I didn't. Because I would have punched him."

"I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind."

"I still can't believe you were randomly there. That's some weird serendipity shit."

Oliver nodded, taking a pull from his beer.

"So, whatever happened to that girl you were with?" Tommy asked. "Helena or whatever? Because, if I remember correctly, it was a date. And you don't date."

Oliver frowned. "Felicity said the same thing."

"She's not wrong."

"Why do you think I don't date?"

"Because you don't. _We_ don't. We're not built for it."

Oliver, trying to find anything to refute this statement, grabbed on to the first thing that came to mind and blurted, "What about Nicole? I dated her for six months."

Tommy stared at him. "Horse girl? You're using horse girl as your banner example of dating? You cheated on her constantly."

Oliver winced. "Okay, so, Nicole might not be the best example-"

"Nicole is possibly the worst example" Tommy said. "So, what's the deal with this girl?"

Oliver thought about that for a moment. What was different about Helena? There was nothing remarkable he could really pinpoint. She was beautiful. She was funny. She could hold a conversation, which actually was a novel attribute, but when he really thought of her as a person, there was nothing remarkable. She was just a nice girl. And for some reason, that had been enough for him to do something he hadn't done in years. He actually called when he said he would. So often, he'd usher a girl out of the apartment, spouting off bullshit about calling and, yes, lunch the next day sounded perfect, and it never came to anything. Why call the same girl when you could find a new one?

But he'd wanted to try something different. To see if _he_ could be different. He'd written himself off years ago as someone who wasn't capable of more than something casual, but when he stopped to think about it he couldn't actually articulate why. It was something he thought about often over the past few weeks. Maybe it was due to Tommy's comments when Felicity first came to town, or Felicity herself, but he began to question that assumption, and why it was he just accepted it.

His thoughts drifted to what Felicity had said before her dinner, about him not being the dating type, and how incensed he'd gotten. Thinking back, he realized that it wasn't what she'd said that bothered him so much as that she was the one saying it. He didn't want her to see him that way. He wanted her to believe he was capable of more, because at the end of the day he wanted to believe it, too.

"You alive over there?" Tommy asked.

"Sorry, I was just…do you think you could ever be in a real relationship? I mean, I know we joke about not being built for it, but if you met the right girl and it was the right time, do you think you could really do it?"

Tommy thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. If it was the right girl."

Oliver was quiet, taking in what Tommy said.

"Are we done with this Oprah moment?" Tommy asked after a beat. "Because if we're going to continue, I'm going to have to switch to something harder."

Oliver laughed. "No, man. We're finished."

 

* * *

 

Tommy picked her up at exactly eight o'clock and naturally the first thing he did is comment on her outfit. She'd chosen a loose, boxy dress with flats. Was it the most flattering outfit for a night out? No. But it was comfortable and didn't require a bra, and when one was being forced to go to a club on a perfectly nice Saturday evening they should be allowed to wear what they wanted.

Tommy did not share this sentiment.

"You're not even trying," Tommy complained, gesturing toward her dress.

"I said I would go. I never said I would try," she returned stubbornly.

"The whole point of tonight is for you to get out and meet some people. No one is going to want to meet you in that mumu."

"It is not a mumu!"

"It has Hawaiian flowers on it. It's a mumu." He began to circle her, examining the dress. "My god, you could fit an entire nuclear family in here. Plus a kid from an extra-marital affair."

"Tommy-"

"Are you wearing it to sneak snacks in? Do you have a fanny pack under there stuffed with Twizzlers or something?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No. Although, I have to admit, that's sort of a genius idea."

"Okay, I can't stand this," he said, striding past her into her bedroom. She followed after him, irritably saying, "Don't you go in my closet, Tommy Merlyn! I mean it!"

He didn't listen. When she caught up with him he already was pulling a short red shift dress out of her closet.

"What about this? Red looks good on you."

"I'm not changing," she held.

He ignored her, continuing to rifle through her closet. She fought him for a few minutes but then gave up, sitting heavily on the edge of her bed. The awful part was that she knew he was right. Getting out would do her good, and she did need to meet people and get Nick out of her system.

Finally, sick of Tommy messing up the ordered chaos known as her closet, she stood up and nudged him out of the way, reaching into her closet and immediately pulling out a magenta dress with a fitted bodice and gauzy skirt that flowed nicely when she moved.

"Go outside. I'll put this on."

Tommy gave her a look. "You had an appropriate dress chosen all this time, didn't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Outside. Now."

Three minutes later she walked out in the dress and nude heels. Tommy nodded appreciatively and said, "Now you look like someone who wants to get over their ex."

She sighed in response. "Let's just go."

 

* * *

 

Two hours and three glasses of wine later, Felicity didn't mind Verdant. She liked the packed venue and the way she couldn't even hear her own thoughts over the loud pulsing of the music. She thought too much. Really, she did. She was always thinking about something. Worrying about something. That was her problem. She had to stop thinking, stop worrying, and just be. At least that was what she was telling the guy next to her whose name was either Kevin or Robert. She couldn't remember which it was, but both seemed to fit him.

"Life is just so much better when you don't think," she said loudly. "Don't you think that?"

"Yeah, totally," he said, the hand on her leg inching higher.

"I mean, if I think too much I think…maybe it means something that my ex fell in love with someone else. I mean, that _has_ to mean something. People don't just fall in love with other people, right?" Kevin or Robert didn't respond, thinking it a rhetorical question, and she pressed, "Right?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, definitely right."

"Right," she said again. "But if I don't think about it. Poof! It's gone! It's all gone!"

"Well, I think –"

"No!" she said, covering his mouth with her hand. "You're not supposed to be thinking!"

He took a hold of her wrist, prying her hand from his mouth as he chuckled.

"I was going to say how could anyone fall in love with someone other than you?"

It was such a line – Felicity knew that – but she smiled anyway.

"You talk well, Kevin or Robert."

He laughed. "It's Kevin."

She grinned wide. "Kevin. Well. You talk well, Kevin."

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure this is the best thing for her?" Oliver asked, leaning against the bar with Tommy, watching Felicity preen over something the guy next to her said. She leaned against him, and Oliver watched the guy's hand inch up Felicity's leg, the edges of his fingertips just poking under her dress's skirt.

"She needs to get out there again," Tommy said. He, too, noticed the placement of the guy's hand. "Is that guy really feeling her up in broad daylight?"

"It's technically not daylight."

"Well, this is good for her. Some attention. Some time away from Netflix. This is what she needs."

"Sure."

Tommy continued watching Felicity, jaw clenched. "But if that guy's hand goes any higher I'm going over there."

Oliver smirked.

* * *

 

"Do you want another drink?" Kevin asked. "Your wine glass looks a little low."

"I'd love more," Felicity said.

"What were you drinking?"

"Oh, whatever," she said lightly. Right now, she didn't care what it was as long as it kept the pleasant buzz in her head going. He wandered off to the bar and she took a sip from her wine glass, tipping her head back to get the last bit.

When her head was level again Oliver had slipped into the seat beside her, his hands folded on the table and gaze inquiringly.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Wonderful. You know, I really like it here."

Oliver grinned. "Well, thank you. As co-owner, I'm always happy to hear that."

"Did you see my guy?" she asked conspiringly. "Pretty nice, huh?"

"Yeah, he seemed nice. What's his name?"

Her face went blank. "Kevin. I think. Or maybe Robert. He told me. I forgot. He told me again. Anyway…" she trailed off, attention focusing again. "Hi."

Oliver laughed lightly. "Hi. Where'd he go?"

"To get me a drink."

"You might want to slow down. Remember that hangover you had after the Beer Olympics? I won't be there in the morning to make you banana toast and coffee."

"Banana toast," she sighed nostalgically, tilting her head to the side. "You should just be there every morning I wake up to make me banana toast."

He blinked rapidly at her words, and knowing that she wouldn't remember this in the morning, he smiled softly and said, "Yeah. That would be nice."

She returned his grin, and Oliver thought to himself that somehow, over the past few weeks, her smile had become one of his favorite things. In fact, there were a lot of things about her he'd come to like. He liked the way she hogged the popcorn when they all watched TV together, and how she sang along to commercial jingles. He liked that she drank her coffee black and only caved when the holiday creamers came out. He liked that she was fiercely loyal to Tommy, but still didn't put up with any of his crap. He liked her, period. Felicity Smoak, and all the little oddities that made her unlike anyone else he'd ever known.

"Oliver," she murmured.

"Yeah?"

She glanced meaningfully over his shoulder and he turned his head, looking up at Kevin or Robert with her glass of wine. The guy looked down at him with an expression he could clearly read. He'd given it himself over the years. Back off.

And he did. Because, it wasn't his place to do anything else. He stood up, laying his hand on her shoulder as he said, "I'll see you later, Felicity."

He turned, coming nearly chest to chest with the other guy. He sized him up, giving the clear impression that if he did something, he'd have to answer to Oliver. The guy just stared back, holding Oliver's gaze until Oliver broke away, squaring his shoulders as he walked back to Tommy.

"How drunk is she?" Tommy asked.

"Drunk, but not too bad," Oliver said. "You definitely should make sure you put her in a cab alone, though. I don't think she'd be too happy to wake up next to that guy. Or any guy, for that matter."

Tommy nodded. "How did the man of the hour seem?"

Oliver shrugged. "Harmless enough."

"Good. Well, then our work for the evening is done. See anything here worth talking to?"

Oliver glanced around, more for show than anything, and said, "Not at the moment."

Tommy nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Me neither."

They kept their spot at the bar, keeping an eye on Felicity as they sipped at their drinks, both pretending it was anything but a conscious choice.

 

* * *

 

Felicity didn't finish her last glass of wine. What Oliver told her rang in her head, and as she sipped on the water she'd asked Kevin to get her previously, her buzz slowly receded, and she began to notice little things like how his stories weren't making any sense, and his hand was getting uncomfortably high on her leg. She was relieved when she got a text from Tommy that read:

_It's midnight._

_You want to go?_

She did. Desperately. She slipped her phone back into her purse and set the guy with a sheepish grin as she told him she had to go.

"What? It's early still."

"I really have to go," she said, standing up. She tried to step around him, the small table hitting the back of her legs, and he reached up and grasped her hips.

"Why don't we head back to my place," he said, pulling her toward him. "It's nice and quiet there. We can talk."

"I don't think talking is really what you have in mind," Oliver said, suddenly appearing beside them. He took a hold of Felicity's arm and said, "Are you ready to go home?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I recommend you move now," Oliver said pleasantly, but there was an edge to his voice. The guy hesitated but then stood up, stepping aside. Oliver had Felicity pass first, her eyes locking with his as she passed, and then he gave the guy a perfunctory nod and followed her.

"How you feeling, Sparky?" Tommy asked, throwing his arm around Felicity's shoulders.

"Like I'm going to have a major wine headache tomorrow."

"Hey, at least that's new pain!" Tommy said jubilantly, leading them out of the club.

Felicity smirked. She glanced back at the table where she'd been sitting with Kevin, but it was empty.

"Guys, I wasn't…I didn't do anything embarrassing at the table, did I?"

"You mean besides almost letting that guy give you a pelvic exam in public?" Tommy responded glibly.

Felicity's eyes widened. "His hand wasn't that high. It wasn't. Was it?"

"It wasn't," Oliver assured her. "And no, you did nothing embarrassing. You just…had fun. Which was the point of tonight, wasn't it?"

"It was," she agreed. "You know, I actually do feel a little better. Besides the impending wine headache."

"See, I told you this was what you needed," Tommy said. With it being early, the cab line was short and Tommy held the door open for her as she climbed in. When she was buckled into the seat he poked his head in and said, "Now, what did we learn tonight?"

She rolled her eyes. "That you're right. On occasion. Very, very few occasions."

Tommy grinned. "I'll take it. Text me when you're home, okay?"

"I will. Night Tommy." She leaned forward so she could see Oliver. "Goodnight, Oliver."

"Goodnight, Felicity."

She closed the door and told the cab driver her address, resting her head against the back of the cushion as the cab zoomed down the street.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Felicity awoke to a knock on her front door. She groaned, rolling over and picking her phone up from the nightstand. It felt like it was monstrously early, but her phone told her that it was, in fact, eleven o'clock. She pulled herself out of bed, grabbing her Tardis robe and pulling it on as she yawned.

She tripped over a pair of shoes on her way to the door, swearing softly as her foot throbbed. Wine would not be touching her lips for at least another month. Or until the pounding in her head subsided.

When she opened the door she was surprised to see Oliver standing there with a Tupperware in his hands.

"Oliver? What are you doing here? Did Tommy accidentally pick up a hooker again?"

Oliver chuckled. "You know, that never actually happened."

"I know. It just seems like something that should have by now. What's in the Tupperware?"

He looked down at it, as if he'd forgotten it was in his hands to begin with, and held it out for her.

"It's for you. Peanut butter toast, personally delivered for your morning."

"You're kidding," she said, taking the Tupperware from him and opening it up. Sure enough, there were two pieces of toast with peanut butter smeared on it topped with sliced banana. "You're not kidding."

"I thought you could use it this morning."

"Thank you. This is…This is incredibly sweet of you. Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee."

He shook his head. "I'm actually just stopping by on my way to Verdant. There's a beer shipment I need to sign off on."

"Okay. Well, thank you again for the peanut butter toast. I will put it to good use. And by good use, I mean eat it. Because it's food. And that's what you do with food. You eat it, because it is food and _oh my God_ the words just keep coming…"

He grinned. "I'll see you later, Felicity."

She nodded, leaning against the frame of her door. "Bye Oliver."

She watched him walk away for a minute before stepping back and closing the door in front of her. She padded back to the kitchen and sat down, opening the Tupperware and pulling out one of the pieces of toast. She took a bite, wincing as the familiar acrid taste of burnt bread hit the roof of her mouth. He'd burned it last time, too – almost to the point of inedibility – but she didn't have the heart to tell him.

Just like then, she ate it anyway.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

She didn't know how it happened. One minute she had been perfectly fine, making fun of him for not being able to eat with chopsticks, and then she was kissing him, a container of mushu pork knocked to the ground by her foot as she climbed onto his lap.

She was kissing him. Oliver. She was kissing _Oliver_.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself," Felicity said, taking a deep breath. "We need to start at the beginning."

It all started because Tommy was out of town. Malcolm decided that it was high time for some family bonding, and while Tommy was partial to spending time with his father he was not partial to spending time in the Bahamas with free drinks, so he went along, opining how he could probably grab himself a few islanders to entertain him when he'd had enough of Malcolm.

He left on a Tuesday, teasingly telling Felicity and Oliver to behave, and then two became one. Unaccustomed to having the apartment to himself for such a stretch, Oliver called Felicity to join him for dinner. She'd agreed – having nothing more than Netflix and wine on the agenda – and showed up with a Rosati pizza and their famous cheesy bread.

"I could write an ode to this bread," she'd cooed, picking at a glob of cheese on the edge of the bread and pulling it off. "Really. I'll write one right now."

"Please don't," he'd returned drily.

"Fine. But it's your loss. My odes are a thing of beauty."

And so the week without Tommy began. Felicity went there every night, bringing a different cuisine from the bountiful Starling City selections. Wednesday it was Al's Pancake House – where they surprisingly did not sell pancakes. Thursday it was Mariano's. Friday it was Bombay Bistro. Saturday it was Bombay Bistro again – "I could write an ode about this curry." "Please don't." - and Sunday a rare night of leftovers. Monday, the last night of what could arguably have been called the culinary tour of Starling City, they went all in with Lang's Chinese Express.

Somewhere during the week they'd moved from the edges of the couch to the middle, her legs folded underneath her with her inner knee resting on his thigh. They brushed arms as they reached for food, sharing dipping sauces and even occasional bites. It didn't seem like anything at the time – but then again, maybe it had. Felicity distinctly remembered a tingling in her chest when Oliver insisted she eat the last wonton. The sudden cheek biting to mask the idiotic smile that spread on her face when she saw him ignore a text from whoever was blowing up his phone.

"But it was nothing," Felicity said, reaching up and adjusting her glasses. "We're just friends. I mean, that's all we could ever be. Because he's him. And I'm me. And, oh my God, if Tommy finds out…"

Who knew that Chinese food was such an aphrodisiac? They'd been talking, nothing out of the ordinary, but both of them could feel that something had shifted. Her knee was still propped up on his leg, but now his hand had curled itself around her knee. He'd never done that before, but they'd never been this close. His hand felt comfortable on her knee, and she found herself leaning against him.

Mushu pork. It was a sexier food than Felicity ever knew. She'd never really considered food sexy, but then Oliver was eating it next to her and all she could think about was his lips and mouth, and what his lips and mouth would look like in other places.

She'd tried to put distance between them, tried to sit a little farther away and not stare at him as his tongue darted out to catch an errant noodle, but it was no use. Somewhere between Tuesday and that night she'd caught a fever of sorts, and there was no cure in sight.

By the time he'd dropped a whole clump of noodles on his shirt, she was a goner. She'd laughed, picking them up with her fingers and tossing them on her plate. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she'd absentmindedly sucked the sauce from them, unaware of the way his eyes darkened and jaw ticked. But the naked lust was still there when she'd wiped her fingers on her jeans and returned her gaze to his. It had surprised her then – the way he was looking at her – but perhaps what surprised her more was that his look mirrored the exact feelings churning in her own body.

It had been a while since she'd just wanted someone. She was usually more of a logical person, following her head and whatnot. Passion didn't play much of a role. But there, in his living room, she'd had the distinct realization that she wanted nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and kiss him senseless.

So, that's what she did.

"I don't know what's worse, the fact that it happened or that I don't really care. I mean I _care_. I don't just go around kissing people and not caring. Not that there's anything wrong with people who do! I just don't. Kiss and not care, I mean. But…right after I was all worried and sure that we had made a huge mistake, but I don't care anymore. I just did what I wanted for once and it felt pretty nice. Sure, the fall out could be catastrophic. And there's a very good chance that when Tommy finds there will be hysterics to _American Pyscho_ proportions. But what's life without some risks, right?"

The woman blinked at Felicity, reaching up and adjusting her headset wedged under her Big Belly Burger baseball cap.

"That's nice. Um, but the 'how are you today?' was really more of a rhetorical question. We have to ask or our manager yells at us."

"Oh. Right. I'm sorry."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Your total comes to $8.37."

Felicity took a ten dollar bill out of her wallet and then leaned over and handed it to the woman through the drive through window. When she got her change she pulled up to the second window where her food would come out, thinking that you've probably reached rock bottom when you're relating your problems to the Big Belly Burger drive through person.

* * *

 

She and Oliver agreed to meet the day after what she'd secretly began referring to as The Mushu Pork Incident. With time on her side – i.e. roughly twenty two hours or so – she began to think that perhaps making out with him on his couch wasn't the smartest thing. First, they were friends. That made it messy enough. And then he was Tommy's roommate. Oliver she could erase from her life if things went south, but she couldn't do that to her own blood.

All she could hope, as she walked to the local coffee shop where her and Oliver set to meet, was that he'd agree it was a mistake. Otherwise, they'd have to face truths that she had a feeling neither was fully equipped to contend with.

She spotted him through the large bay window before she walked into the coffee shop. He was sitting at a corner table, looking uncharacteristically anxious in his dark green zip up and cup of coffee. She watched him from outside for a moment, grinning when he spilled some coffee down the front of his shirt and wiped at it with a napkin, furtively glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

She did. But she thought to herself that she seemed to notice a lot of things about him that others didn't.

She walked into the coffee shop and headed back toward his table. When he saw her he jerked a bit in his seat, like he was about to get up but decided against it halfway out of his seat. She'd never been nervous around him before, but she undeniably felt that familiar – albeit unfamiliar around him – sensation grip her.

"I got you an Earl Grey," Oliver said, pushing the mug toward her. "I can get you something else if you-"

"Earl Grey is perfect," she said, taking the mug and wrapping her hands around it. The mug warmed her palms like a small space heater.

"So, how are you?" he asked.

"Okay. I mean, I did treat a Big Belly drive through person as a personal shrink earlier today, but all things considered…"

Oliver smirked. "So, yesterday. We should talk about that."

"Yes. Yesterday. Like the Beatles song. But not. Because no one makes out in that song. As far as I know. There _might_ be some subtext I'm unaware of."

"What are your thoughts?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What are yours?"

He laughed – the sound somewhere between nervous and exasperated – and he said, "I think you're wonderful. I think that you're beautiful and smart and any guy would have been lucky to make out with you. But it probably shouldn't have been me."

She nodded, wondering why after hearing exactly what she wanted she felt disappointed.

"First off, Tommy would kill me," Oliver continued. "Or I guess the proper tense is _will_ kill me. And, I'm not right for you. You're a relationship girl."

"And you're not a relationship guy?" she asked, thinking this went against everything he'd been trying to tell her for the past few weeks. But again, she was getting what she wanted. Why was she fighting him?

He shrugged. "It's better this way."

"It is," she agreed, stopping herself before she could go and argue with him more and while she was at it ruin everything. He was letting her off easy - not even questioning why she'd essentially jumped him. It was time for her to shut up and just agree with him.

"So, we're decided," she said with a decisive nod. "It was a mistake. And it definitely won't happen again."

* * *

 

Tommy came home and remained – at least for the time being – blithely unaware of what had transpired between his roommate and cousin. Felicity almost thought they'd gotten away with it until her dry cough she'd had for the past week or so turned into a hacking cough and she was hit with such debilitating exhaustion that she'd left a _Sex And The City_ DVD playing the opening screen saver for three hours straight until the TV turned off on its own – too tired to get up and change the DVD herself.

She dragged herself to the doctor's office one afternoon and a few days later received a dreary diagnosis for someone who was swapping saliva with someone only a week and a half earlier.

She called Oliver, wincing when he answered the phone with a loud, phlegm-filled cough.

"Sorry," Oliver said, voice hoarse. "How are you?"

"Admittedly, not great," Felicity said.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't be mad. But, um, I went to the doctor earlier this week and I sort of have…mono."

Oliver was silent on the other end of the line.

"Oliver?"

"Are you saying you gave me mono?"

"No. I'm _suggesting_ that I gave you mono."

Oliver groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry."

"Mono? Seriously? I didn't think people got that outside of high school."

"They do. I'm living proof. And possibly you. Did I mention I'm sorry?"

"Are they sure it's mono? Maybe it's just a cold or something."

"No, they tested me. It's mono. So, um, you probably should go and get yourself tested, too. Who knows, you could just have a boring old cold! How great would that be?"

She could almost hear Oliver roll his eyes.

"I'll go to the doctor tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

Felicity planned to keep it to herself that she had mono, but then Tommy tried to drink her coffee, and almost like a gut reaction she blurted out, "No, the mono!"

He'd looked at her like she was insane and then after she admitted that she had mono made fun of her for a good twenty minutes about having the kissing disease.

"Who were you kissing, Felicity?" he'd teased.

"No one," she'd returned vehemently. It was partially true. She didn't get it from kissing. Who knew how she got it. She thought of her mug at work, and how it sat in the communal kitchen. Knowing her luck some mono-infected-coworker used it on the sly and stuck her with his or her illness. But it definitely wasn't kissing. She hadn't been doing that for a long while before Oliver.

It was because of this knowledge that Tommy Merlyn found it particularly puzzling when he overheard a message on his and Oliver's answering machine from Starling City Community Hospital relaying that Oliver's mononucleosis test results were in.

When Oliver came home from his run – which he hacked all the way through – Tommy told him about the message.

"You know, it's funny," Tommy said offhandedly. "Felicity has mono."

"She does?" Oliver asked carefully, wiping at his face.

"Yeah. She told me a few days ago. Actually, more like yelled it at me when I tried to drink her coffee. That girl is territorial with her caffeine."

Oliver answered with a stilted laugh. "Yeah. Well, I'm going to shower."

He almost made it to the bathroom before Tommy put everything together.

"You have MONO?"

 

* * *

 

Felicity was several capfuls of Nyquil into the night when there was a knock on her door. She gave her nose a quick blow before standing up and dragging herself to the door. When she opened it she was surprised to see Oliver standing there with a collection of duffel bags. His nose was red, just like hers, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"So, Tommy knows," Oliver said. "And he kicked me out."

"What?"

"Do you think I could crash here until he gets over himself? It usually takes him two days. Three tops."

Felicity nodded, stepping back. He glanced around her apartment, eyes taking in the tissues strewn all around every visible surface and then finally the steaming pot of chicken noodle soup on the stove.

"Is that soup?" he asked unnecessarily, but he felt the need to ask it anyway as he padded over to the kitchen.

"Help yourself," she said, settling back on the couch.

He returned with two bowls – one for him, one for her - and sat next to her on the couch, a respectable distance between them. He got himself a spoonful and then raised it a bit from the bowl as he hoarsely said, "To our mono."

"I'm really sorry," she said.

"It's okay," he said with a shrug, sticking the spoon in his mouth. "It's about time for Tommy and my yearly blowout. Usually it's in the summer – the heat riles him up and all – but this is good. Get it out early in the year."

Felicity laughed, and the laugh turned into a cough. Oliver patted her on the back.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I feel like I'm dying."

"Hey, me too," he returned glibly with a thin smile. "At least you feel like you're dying with company. That's something, right?"

"You shouldn't be here. This is all my fault. I should have never jumped you," Felicity said morosely.

"If I remember correctly, I was very complicit in the jumping."

Felicity remembered how his hands felt against her skin and murmured, "Yes. Yes you were."

"We'll get through this."

She didn't know if he meant the mono or everything else, but she nodded anyway, thinking that it was an appropriate statement for all of the above.

"I hope."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have about eight chapters to upload here. That means you will get two a day until we're all caught up! Merry Christmas - or whatever you celebrate - to youuuu!!!!!

Chapter Eight

It turned out that Tommy did not get over things quickly. This was evidenced by the fact that it was two weeks after the big Mushu Pork Incident became common knowledge, and Oliver was still sleeping on her couch. He kept telling her that it would blow over the next day, and the next day, and the _next day_. But she was starting to think that there was no end in sight for Tommy's anger.

She discussed this with her cousin over Pad Thai at the local Thai restaurant. He was sympathetic but firm in his standing that him and Oliver were done for the foreseeable future.

"I don't get why you're all mad at him and not me," Felicity said. "I was an active participant. Some would even say I started it."

"Yeah, but it's different. You're you. You're like this nubile lamb out in the wild." Felicity made a face at him, but he continued, completely un-phased. "I couldn't expect you to know what you were getting into with Oliver. But he knew. Oh, he knew. And for that reason, I will stay pissed at him until such time that I feel my anger is no longer warranted."

"Okay, for starters, please never call me a nubile lamb again. It's weird even for you. And, I don't know, I think you're wrong about Oliver. He's different than when I first met him."

Tommy gave her a look.

"Not that I'm pursuing anything," she said quickly. "We both agreed it was a mistake. He said so himself. But he seems different. He took that girl out on a date. A real date."

"Yeah, and he hasn't called her since."

"He hasn't?"

Tommy shook his head. "No, that date was the only one. He said some stupid shit about how she wasn't the one or something. Like either of us actually believe in that."

"Maybe he does."

He gave her a look and said, "You're not that naïve."

"Why is it so difficult for you to think he's changed?" Felicity argued. When Tommy showed no sign of budging she shoved her fork into a pile of rice noodles on her plate and said, "Anyway, he's not the one you should be mad at. I kissed him. I started it. He probably just kissed me back so I wouldn't be embarrassed."

That thought had crossed her mind. Things seemed to fall back so effortlessly into place between her and Oliver. It was nothing like the movies said it would be. She'd watched _When Harry Met Sally_ more times than she could count, and they had none of that awkward time after, both of them tensely eating salads as the gravity of just how much changed – and how they had only themselves to blame - settles between them. They'd jumped right back into friendship.

"I couldn't be mad at you if I tried," Tommy said. "You know that."

"So you'll just shift all your anger to Oliver? Because that sounds really unfair."

"You were off limits," Tommy said with finality.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times as what he said really hit home.

"I was _what_?"

"I told him when you came here that you were off limits. I let him chase after a lot of women – even my high school sweetheart – but he was not, under any circumstances, to go after you."

Felicity felt an uncharacteristic flare of anger. Who was Tommy to decide who she could see or not see? She wasn't this fragile inexperienced little girl that he thought she was. That might have been her when they were growing up, but not anymore. She was a grown woman and she didn't like decisions being unilaterally made for her.

"That is total bullshit."

"It's for your own good," he said offhandedly, attention on his plate as he scraped up the last bits of his pad thai. "You have no idea how awful some guys are."

"I'm going to go," she said, standing up and putting her napkin on her seat.

He looked up in confusion. "What? You're not mad, are you?"

"I'm twenty five and my cousin who hasn't seen a monogamous day in his life is deciding who I can and cannot date," she said irritably. "Yeah, I'm mad. Call me when you get your head out of your ass."

"Felicity, come on-"

She didn't wait to hear the rest, stalking out of the restaurant. She knew where he was coming from. Really, she did. But for the love of God, couldn't she make a mistake of her own if she wanted? She wasn't entirely certain if Oliver was a mistake or not, but it was her right to make it. What was life without some risk? Without taking a chance? She'd spent years playing it safe with Nick and look where that got her.

She was seething when she got home, Oliver sitting on the couch watching some sports game. He looked up when she slammed her purse on the table while grumbling under her breath at a volume just loud enough so he caught the curse words.

"What's wrong?"

"Did Tommy really put me off limits?" she demanded, hands on her waist.

Oliver blinked. "Yes."

She stepped forward, mind ticking. "So, he actually said the words. He said, 'My cousin is off limits.'?"

"Pretty much, yeah. He even banned impure thoughts."

"I can't _believe_ him!" she said angrily, stomping over to the kitchen and pulling open the refrigerator. She grabbed a beer and came to the couch, sitting down with a heavy plop.

"Who is _he_ to tell me who I can date or not?" she railed, trying ineffectually to twist the cap off the beer bottle.

Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out his set of keys. "Give it here. That's not a twist off."

She handed it over and he used the bottle opener from his keys to open it as she talked.

"It's ridiculous. Why does he have to be so big brother? Do you know he called me a nubile lamb? A nubile lamb?!"

Oliver snorted, handing her the beer.

"And do you know what's worse? I think he actually believes that. I think he believes that I am this naïve, incompetent girl who just goes for the first flash in the pan. He thinks I get dazzled. I don't get dazzled. I've never been dazzled a day in my life."

"Nick the Prick sort of dazzled you." Oliver pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Sometimes I'm dazzled. But I thought I loved him. I _did_ love him. But, I'm not so far gone that I just go for the first person who bats their eye lashes at me. But _he_ thinks that." She took a long pull from her beer. "Oh, he thinks that. I hate him. I absolutely hate him."

"No you don't."

She frowned and shook her head, taking another swig of her beer.

"No," she admitted. "I don't. But why doesn't he trust me?"

"It's not about you," he said. "Or at least not the way you think. As you know, I don't have the best track record with women. He wanted to protect you from me. And in a way, he's right."

"Don't you start going on about that, too," Felicity said, rolling her eyes. "You're not that person who stole my cab anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were never supposed to mention that?"

"I did it for the sake of your personal growth," she said, raising her beer bottle. "But, really. You're not the same person. To be honest, I don't think I'm the same person, either."

"I just think you should cut him some slack. He was looking out for you, whether it feels like that or not."

She shook her head. "I can't believe you're defending the guy who kicked you out."

"I guess I see his point."

Felicity shrugged, taking another pull from her beer. Her eyes settled on the game playing on the screen, and she said, "Why does the screen look so grainy? Did you break my TV?"

He chuckled. "No. It's the 1984 NBA finals between the Celtics and Lakers."

"Why would you watch an old basketball game?" she asked, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

"It's a classic. The height of the Larry Bird and Magic Johnson rivalry. It's really basketball at its best."

"I didn't understand a word you just said."

"Okay. Now, _I'm_ worried about you. How can you have such a lacking sports education with Tommy as your cousin?"

"Because he knew better than to talk sports with me."

"Sit back and relax," Oliver told her, patting her arm with his hand. "These next three hours are going to be life altering."

She stared at him, mouth agape. "Three hours?"

 

* * *

 

It took two days, dozens of texts, and three phone calls before Felicity finally cooled off enough to hear Tommy out. She went to his apartment, feet tucked under her on the couch as Tommy told her, for the fifth time that conversation, "I just worry about you."

"I know," she said. "But you can't use that as an excuse to do things like tell people they can't date me."

"Not date. Go after."

She gave him a look. "I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. And my mistakes. Because I'm going to make them, but that's okay. I think I'm entitled to a few of those after Nick."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I don't want to get hurt, either," she said. "But you have to let me take that chance."

"With Oliver?"

She shook her head. "No, not with Oliver. That is not happening. Ever. So, please, for the love of God let him come home. I'm not used to living with someone else. It's really cramping my living alone style."

Tommy snorted. "Can't lounge without pants anymore?"

"No," she said emphatically. "I can't. I have to wear pants. And buy extra milk. And there keeps being _sports_ on my TV. And you know how much I hate sports."

"A lot."

"He made me watch three hours of some old basketball game," she complained.

"What one was it?"

"'84 NBA finals, I think?"

Tommy nodded appreciatively. "That's a great game. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson at the height of their rivalry."

Felicity groaned. "Please take him back. I'm begging you."

"I'll think about it."

"I hear ESPN broadcasters in my dreams," Felicity said. "Just last night my dream was narrated by Jon Barry."

"Hey, I'm surprised you know that name."

"Do you see what's happening to me?" she asked loudly.

Tommy sighed. "Okay, okay. Tell Oliver to head back here whenever he's ready."

Felicity grinned wide, clapping her hands together. "Tonight. He will be ready tonight."

 

* * *

 

With only a few bags, Oliver was easily moved back into his and Tommy's apartment by Monday night football. He sat with Tommy, both of them on their third beer.

"I can't believe you got her to watch basketball," Tommy noted. "I tried for over ten years and it never happened."

"It's the benefit of having one television, I guess," Oliver said, finishing his beer and leaning forward to put the bottle on the table. "It was actually pretty funny trying to explain the game to her. I swear she has some sort of sports mental block. I can't even tell you how many times I tried to explain what a euro step is."

Tommy studied his roommate for a moment and then said, "You didn't kiss her back out of pity, did you?"

"What?" Oliver said in surprise.

"When she kissed you. You didn't kiss her back so she wouldn't be embarrassed."

Oliver hesitated for a moment and then said, "No. I didn't."

"You actually like her."

It wasn't a question. Oliver swallowed hard and said, "You're not going to kick me out again, are you?"

Tommy sighed, shaking his head. "No. No, I'm not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for another chapter late afternoon! And, while you're at it, leave some reviews/kudos!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter - as promised! You'll get another one tonight!

Chapter Nine

It was 8:30 on a Saturday night, and Felicity, Oliver, and Tommy were seated on the boy's well worn couch, Tommy in the middle hogging the popcorn and constantly telling Oliver and Felicity to shush when they talked over the action on the television screen. There was a Batman marathon on FX, and they were about halfway through _The Dark Knight_.

"Wait, so this one doesn't have Anne Hathaway in it?" Felicity asked for the second time.

"No, I told you. She's in _The Dark Knight Rises_ ," Tommy returned.

Felicity frowned. "I thought she was in this one. Are you sure she doesn't come in at the end or something?"

Tommy gave her a look.

"What? It's not like you haven't seen this before!" she argued lightly.

"That doesn't mean I want you talking through the whole movie," he said, poking her in the arm. "For the last time, Anne Hathaway is not in this movie."

Felicity sighed, glancing at her watch. "Well, then it's a good thing I have to leave. I was only watching for her Catwoman."

Tommy looked at her in confusion. "Why do you have to leave?"

"I have plans," she said, arching her back as she stretched. Oliver, who had leaned forward, forearms resting on his legs, pointedly avoided looking at her.

"But we're here," Tommy said slowly.

Felicity rolled her eyes, standing up and walking over to the kitchen table where she'd tossed her coat and purse earlier.

"I have other friends, you know."

Tommy and Oliver both exchanged a dubious look, which Felicity caught.

"What do you think I do at work all day? Hide in my cubicle and avoid social interaction?"

"That's what you did back in high school. Except, back then it was a bathroom stall."

"Very funny, Tommy. And I didn't eat lunch in a bathroom stall." She straightened her spine a bit and added, "I ate in the nurse's office."

"You ate lunch in the nurse's office?" Oliver asked, thinking something was remarkably sad about that. He envisioned a young Felicity in a peter pan collared shirt and oversized glasses sitting by herself in the whitewashed office, nursing an apple juice box.

"It's not as sad as it sounds," Felicity said. "I liked Ms. Peterson. She always let me have one of those strawberry jello cups they kept for kids who fainted."

"Wait, so who are these friends? Really. This better not just be code for going home and watching your _Pride & Prejudice _box set again," Tommy said.

"I told you, they're work friends. They're mostly from IT, although Tabitha does marketing stuff."

"Tabitha," Tommy repeated. "Okay. Now I'm certain you're making them up."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe I have other friends? I'm not that socially stunted."

"I never said you were socially stunted. But you spend all your free time with us."

"Not true," she said, pulling her coat on. "I go for drinks with them a couple times a week after work. We even grabbed dinner a week or so back."

It actually was a few days after Tommy took Oliver back in, but she decided to leave that little tidbit of information out. Things seemed to have settled between the three of them and she wasn't about to jeopardize that just to feed his ridiculous questioning.

"Anyway, I really have to go. I'm supposed to meet them at Boltini in thirty minutes."

"Boltini? You're going to _Boltini_? What-"

"I like Boltini," Felicity said, stopping whatever line of insults that were about to leave Tommy's mouth. "They have an entire drink menu of just specialty martinis. I got a Lady Gaga one last time. It came with a glow stick."

"Was it any good?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, God no. It was disgusting, but I got to keep the glow stick."

"I was going to say I didn't know if I trust these friends," Tommy said. "But now I don't know if I trust you."

She rolled her eyes. "Save the hysterics for another day, Tommy. I'll see you guys later."

 

* * *

 

She made it Boltini a few minutes after nine, and she spotted her group already assembled at a back table. She'd been debating whether or not to stop home and change before she met up with him, and she was glad she did. Her shimmery pastel pink shift dress was much more in line with what they were wearing than the leggings and sweater she'd had on earlier.

"Hi guys. Sorry I'm late," she said, slipping into the extra seat. All the IT people were there – Janet, Michael, and Regina, who went by Reggie. Tabitha was there, too, with a guy that Felicity didn't recognize.

"You didn't miss much," Tabitha assured her, sweeping her long sheet of ink black hair over her shoulder. Tabitha reminded Felicity a lot of her hacker friends back at MIT. She had the same penchant for black clothing, winged eyeliner, and whiskey. Felicity had never seen her without dark nails – never chipped – and a bright red lip. Tabitha had told her once that red lipstick was her secret weapon to success. Men had to pay attention to a lip color that bold.

"What about my Conan impression?" Michael interjected.

Tabitha swept her eyes back to Felicity and said, "I repeat. You didn't miss much."

Felicity grinned. "Did you guys order already?"

"Not yet. Service is ridiculously slow tonight," Janet complained, reaching up and adjusting her bright red headband. Headbands were her signature accessory, and Felicity had counted more than fifteen different ones during her short time at Merlyn Global Group. On some women it would have look childish, but Janet wore them well. The red one was a favorite of Janet's and it appeared often.

"I told you, to get service here all you have to do is show a little cleavage," Michael said.

Janet narrowed her eyes. "That's disgusting."

"From where I'm sitting it looks like the waiters here swing your way," Tabitha said. "So, you going to pull your pants down so we get some service?"

He sighed and retorted, "I would, but I don't want to cause mass pandemonium. All the rushing to our table would probably violate some fire code."

Tabitha smirked and then turned her attention back to Felicity.

"Anyway, Felicity, I want you to meet my friend Mark. He's the head chef over at Nobu."

"Oh, I love Nobu!" Felicity enthused. "Those goat cheese stuffed dates are a revelation."

"I could not agree more," Mark said emphatically. "Do you know I had some push back when I put that on the menu? The restaurant's backers didn't think they'd sell."

"Well, they were crazy. Obviously." She took a breath and then extended her hand. "I'm Felicity Smoak. It's very nice to meet you, Mark."

"Likewise. Definitely let me know next time you're at Nobu. I'll send out a few of our secret menu items."

Felicity's eyes lit up. "A secret menu?"

"It's like the Starbucks one. Only insiders know to order off of it."

She leaned in and conspiringly asked, "Am I one of those insiders now? Because I've always wanted to be an insider."

He laughed. "I would definitely say you are one of the insiders."

His phone buzzed and he pulled it from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. After glancing at the number flashing on the screen he pushed his set back from the table and said, "Excuse me. I need to take this."

Felicity nodded, watching with interest as he walked toward the front of the bar where it was quitter. Tabitha leaned in and said, "So, full disclosure, I brought Mark for you."

"What?"

"Well, you never mention a guy in your life, so I sort of assumed there wasn't one. There isn't, right?"

Felicity's thoughts flashed to Oliver, but she shook her head. "Nope. There isn't."

"That's what I thought," Tabitha continued. "Anyway, I thought you and Mark would hit it off."

"How do you know him?" Felicity asked.

"We actually dated," Tabitha said. "It was only for two months or something like that. We didn't work as a couple but we became really good friends. We have been ever since."

"That's really nice," Felicity said, thinking to herself how rare it was for failed relationships to end that way. Her own most recent failed relationship wasn't even cordial in its close, but there had been a lot more involved than just two months of lukewarm romance.

"So, do you like him?"

"I just met him," Felicity stammered.

"What was your first impression?" Tabitha pressed. "A first impression can say a lot about a person. Like, when I first met Bob all I could think about was how nice his abs would look with some whipped cream on them. We've been together for almost a year."

"Your first thought was how his abs would look with whipped cream?" Felicity asked in disbelief.

Tabitha shrugged and added, "I was right, by the way."

"I guess, um, that I think he seems very nice. And that I like his restaurant."

"Well, it's a start," Tabitha said succinctly. She spotted Mark returning to the table and she added, "By the way, his first impression of you was that you're one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen."

Felicity was dumbfounded, and before she could respond Mark had sat down at the table again, Tabitha calmly sipping at her water.

 

* * *

 

Later that night – after a thin mint martini that absolutely lived up to its namesake – Felicity stood with Mark out on the street, trying unsuccessfully to hail a cab.

"Why is it that when you don't need a cab they are everywhere, but the moment you do there isn't one in sight?" Felicity asked, craning her neck to see if she spotted one of the ubiquitous yellow vehicles coming toward them. No such luck.

"Maybe it's something like a watched pot never boils?"

She grinned up at him. "That's a very appropriate analogy for a chef."

"I thought so."

She turned her attention back to the street, but thinking of what he said she angled her face up to him again, thinking maybe he was on to something.

"I had a really nice time tonight," he said.

"Me too. We're a fun group."

"You are," he agreed, nodding. "But I meant more my time with you. I'm glad Tabitha convinced me to come out."

"You weren't going to?"

"My Saturday nights are usually filled with _Chopped_ reruns."

"That's a solid Saturday night binging show," she said in complete seriousness.

He laughed. "But she said she had a friend that she thought I should meet. And as much as it pains me to say this, she was right."

Felicity smirked. "I promise not to tell her."

"I think her finding out is unavoidable," he said. "I'd like to see you sometime. If that's alright with you."

She grinned, tucking her chin into her chest for a moment before asking, "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, being a chef and all, I thought I could cook for you."

She blinked up at him. "Like, at your restaurant?"

He shrugged. "If you wanted. Or I could cook for you at my apartment. My appliances aren't quite as up to date as Nobu's, but they still get the job done."

"What would you make?" she asked.

"No, I can't tell you that," he said, shaking his head. "A chef never reveals his menu early."

She laughed. "Dinner sounds wonderful. Here, let me give you my number."

While they were exchanging numbers a cab rolled up beside them. She slipped her phone back into her purse and murmured, "I think you were right about that watched pot thing."

He grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Goodnight, Felicity."

"Goodnight, Mark."

 

* * *

 

She went back to Oliver and Tommy's apartment that night, realizing that she'd left her phone charger there for what felt like the eightieth time, and was surprised to find Oliver there alone. When she asked where Tommy was he retorted, "Duty called."

Felicity wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting. Next time I ask, please just say he's out running errands or something."

"It's almost midnight. I'm pretty sure you still would have put two and two together."

"No, my mind actively blocks anything even hinting toward Tommy's sex life. I would have happily envisioned him going sock shopping or something."

"Why sock shopping?"

"I don't know. I like the idea of it. You know, someone going and actually buying matching socks for things. It seems so quaint."

Oliver smirked. "So, how was your night out with friends?"

"It was a lot of fun. I like you and Tommy, but sometimes it's nice to be around people who aren't…well…you and Tommy."

"Fair enough."

"Yeah, so, it was good." She thought of Mark and her smile softened. "It was really good."

" _Really_ good, huh?"

She caught his tone and glanced toward him, nodding a bit. "Yeah, really good. I…um…met someone, actually."

"You did?" he asked.

"Is this weird to talk about?" she asked tentatively. "Because it feels sort of weird."

"No," he said immediately. "It's not weird at all."

It was a little weird. Both of them knew that. But it seemed like Oliver was hell bent on ignoring that, and Felicity wasn't about to fight him.

"Okay. Well. His name is Mark. He's the head chef over at Nobu. You know, the place on Maple?"

"That place is really good," Oliver said, nodding in recognition. "I got these date things there once. They were the best."

She smiled a bit and said, "The goat cheese stuffed dates."

"Yes! Those…they were great."

"They were," she agreed softly. "Anyway, yeah. My friend Tabitha introduced us. We're having dinner sometime this week. Well, I should say he's cooking me dinner sometime this week. Why go out when you have your own chef, you know? Not that he's _mine_. Not yet, at least. I mean, I don't know if I even _want_ him to be mine. We just met, that would be…crazy."

"I'm happy for you," Oliver said after a moment.

"You are?" she asked immediately.

"Yeah. You deserve someone good. This guy sounds like he could be that. I mean, you look happy. You look excited."

"I am," Felicity admitted.

"Then I'm happy for you." He reached beside him on the counter and picked up her phone charger, holding it out for her. "Do you need a ride back home?"

"No, my cab's waiting outside," she said, taking the charger from him. Her hand burned from where his fingers brush hers, but she ignored it.

"Have a safe trip home."

She nodded and then left the apartment, telling herself that the large part of her that wanted to stay was wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be on the lookout after dinnertime for the next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for tonight! Be on the lookout for the next chapter tomorrow morning!

Chapter Ten

Felicity hurried down the street, glancing anxiously at her watch. She'd overslept that morning, and while being a few minutes late to work was usually pretty forgivable – her own boss seemed to run perpetually ten minutes behind – there was an important team building meeting that she'd been told no more than three times the night before to not be late for.

She picked up her pace as the large skyscraper came into view. She remembered when it used to dazzle her. The first day she'd all but fallen over as her head tilted back, taking in the grandeur of her family's fortune. Granted, it was her _extended_ family, but still, it was pretty impressive. The dazzle had passed, but she still felt the familiar pull at the base of her stomach as she pressed her ID badge against the sensor at the front of the building and walked inside.

She walked quickly to the elevator bay, breathing out a sigh of relief when she spotted Tabitha. Her coworker was in one of her arguably inappropriate work outfits. She always had low necklines, high hemlines, and just a touch too much makeup. But there was no one who could track an inter-office virus faster than her.

"Why are you late?" Tabitha asked with a knowing smirk. Felicity narrowed her eyes. Yes, she had dinner with Tabitha's friend Mark last night. And, yes, things had gone well, but not _that_ well.

"My alarm in my bedroom where I was very much alone did not go off," Felicity said pointedly.

Tabitha scrunched her nose. "Such a lost opportunity."

"It was one date."

Tabitha shrugged. "So?"

While Felicity was hardly a prude, she was decidedly in the negative camp for whether sex was appropriate on the first date. She liked to know a little more about a person before she let them go rifling through her insides.

"Did you guys have a good time, at least?" Tabitha said after a moment. The elevator doors slid open and the pair walked forward, stepping aside at the last moment to let a hoard of suits walk out. When it was clear they stepped in, Tabitha hitting the button for their floor.

"We did," Felicity said, smiling a bit to herself as she thought about last night. "We really did."

"Really?" Tabitha pressed gamely.

Felicity gave her a look. "Really."

The date had been surprisingly comfortable for someone who'd pretty much been in a monogamous relationship – at least on her side – for a good four or five years. She'd originally suggested going to a restaurant, but he insisted that he cook for her. With some hesitation at the thought of them being alone in his apartment without any distraction or nosy waitress to help fill awkward silences, she'd made up some excuses about not wanting to make him cook on a night off, but he'd insisted. Ultimately she relented and trudged to his apartment on an unseasonably cold Thursday night.

The meal was perfect, and so was he. Hearing from Tabitha about her love for pasta, he'd cooked up some fresh fettucini he took home from his restaurant and paired it with a browned butter sauce, tender kale, and roasted pumpkin seeds. Every bite was absolute perfection, and she was moderately sure that she made sounds and faces that were not entirely appropriate for a dinner table, but he indulged her and didn't comment. If the food was not enough – which it definitely was – conversation flowed easily between them and she found ten o'clock coming before she knew it.

"Does your hybrid turn into a pumpkin at ten o'clock?" he'd teased.

She went to bed that night will a full stomach and full heart.

"He really likes you, you know," Tabitha said leadingly. "I stopped by Nobu to get a free meal off of him… " Felicity smirked, "…and he kept running different pasta dishes past me to make sure he made one you liked. He wanted to do this weird lobster thing, but I think I steered him in the right direction."

"You did," Felicity said, her cheeks flushing when she thought of him waxing and waning over pasta dishes with Tabitha. It had been a while since she'd been with a man who actually cared. Nick hardly could be bothered to put on real pants when they went out.

"So, will there be a second date?" Tabitha asked, gesturing for Felicity to walk out first when the elevator doors slid open.

"I think so," she said, glancing back. "Provided he wants a second date."

"Not even a question," Tabitha said. "He's already planning the second date menu."

They neared the conference room where the meeting was supposed to be taking place, and both hesitated slightly before approaching the doorway. They saw their boss noticeably missing and both of them let out a relieved breath.

Tabitha glanced back at her. "Take those open front seats and pretend we've been here since dawn?"

Felicity nodded curtly. "Sounds about right."

* * *

 

Oliver always loved Thanksgiving. It started as a kid, when he'd be seated in the ornate Queen dining room – a part of the house that him and Thea only dared tread during the holidays – eyes going wide as he saw the platters piled high with food set on the table in front of him. He always ate too much, taking to the couch afterwards to nurse his rolling stomach and post-turkey-fatigue.

But not this year.

"Your parents are skipping out on Thanksgiving?" Tommy said. "Well, that's shitty."

"Technically they're not skipping out," Oliver said. "We're supposed to be all spending it in Paris. But, why would you want to spend Thanksgiving away from home?"

Tommy shrugged. "You got me. So, are you going it alone?"

He shook his head. "Thea's staying back, too. We'll probably do something small."

"You guys are more than welcome to join my family. Granted, we're bat shit crazy, but the food is usually pretty good."

Oliver grinned. "Your family is not crazy. They're not the ones flying off to Paris for arguably the most American holiday there is."

"Do not judge until you have spent an entire meal with them," Tommy said with a sage tone that did not exactly match the words.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Really, though. Spend Thanksgiving with us. The idea of you and Thea eating takeout at your house is depressing."

"I was going to have Rosa make us dinner."

"She has her own family, Oliver. Come spend it with your second one."

"I can bring it up to Thea," Oliver relented.

Tommy grinned wide, knowing full well that he had him. Thea loved the Merlyn family and had announced on more than one occasion over the years that she would happily be adopted by them.

"Guests bring desserts," Tommy advised him.

"I haven't said yes yet."

"Apple would be good," Tommy continued. "We didn't have it last year. Total bullshit, right? What's Thanksgiving without apple pie?"

Oliver shrugged. Tommy had a point.

"Is Felicity going to be at dinner?" Oliver asked casually. Or at least he thought he had. Tommy smirked and said, "Of course. She's family."

"I just didn't know if she was maybe going back to spend Thanksgiving with her parents or something."

Tommy shook his head. "Her mom's flying out here."

"They don't live here?" he asked in confusion.

"No, she moved near Central City for a job a few years back and has been out there ever since."

Oliver noticed Tommy was using all female pronouns, effectively leaving Felicity's dad out of what he was telling him. Gingerly he asked, "What about her dad?"

"He's been gone for as long as I can remember," Tommy said.

"I didn't know that," Oliver said, trying to discern if it meant something or nothing at all that Felicity had never mentioned it to him.

"Don't feel bad," Tommy said, reading into his silence. "Felicity never talks about her dad. He left when she was a baby."

"That's a shame."

"Not really," Tommy said. "The way I see it, she deserves better than someone who ran out on her."

"She does deserve someone better," Oliver echoed.

"So, yes, she will be there. And, if you play your cards right, I might just seat you two next to each other."

Oliver snorted.

"Don't underestimate the highly charged nature of seating arrangements. You two reach for the same water goblet. Your hands brush. She pulls away and blushes like only Felicity can blush." Oliver gave him a look. "You sputter apologies. Because you have absolutely no game around her, by the way."

"I think I liked it better when you didn't want us together," Oliver said darkly.

Tommy waved his had dismissively, rather enjoying his foray into matchmaking.

"I'm telling you, there are a lot of moments you can capitalize on during a holiday."

"You keep plotting, Yenta," Oliver said glibly, walking over to the kitchen table and grabbing his coat. "I'm going to run out to the store."

"I can make this happen, Oliver!" he called after him. "Thanksgiving can make this happen!"

 

* * *

 

The second date was roasted herbed chicken with crispy smashed red potatoes, pan-seared Brussels sprouts with pancetta, and the most velvety chocolate mousse Felicity had ever tasted. She didn't think their first date could be beat, but he went ahead and proved her wrong.

"I want to bathe in this chocolate mousse," Felicity said off-handedly, scooping up the last bits of chocolate mousse in her dish. She looked up and murmured, "That's weird isn't it? I take it back."

Mark laughed. "Not weird at all. I consider people wanting to bathe in my food the highest compliment."

Felicity grinned wide. "Well, then I want to bathe in this _entire_ meal. Seriously, you outdid yourself. I thought that pasta last week was the top, but this is even better."

"I'm glad you enjoy it. I want you to take the leftovers home with you."

"You won't hear me complaining," she said, licking the back of her spoon. "So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?"

"Pizza and my couch," he said.

She looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"My family doesn't do Thanksgiving. We're dispersed so much across the country, it's too hard for us to get together. So, we call each other to wish a happy Thanksgiving, and then we do our own thing."

Felicity had never heard anything more depressing. She glanced over at his couch. It didn't even look that comfortable. Impulsively, she blurted out, "You should come with me to my Thanksgiving dinner."

"I wouldn't want to crash in on your dinner," he said. "I actually really like my low key night. There are usually some pretty good movies on TV. No one's ordering pizza, so the delivery is fast."

"I can't even handle how sad this all sounds," Felicity said in a low voice.

Mark laughed. "Really, it's fine. It's my tradition, I guess."

"Break tradition," she said, leaning forward. "Spend Thanksgiving with me."

"I don't know your family. They don't know me-"

"There's no time like the present," she pressed. "Just bring some fancy chef dish and they'll love you."

He hesitated. "Are you sure they won't mind?"

"Positive," she said. "All of them pretty much hated my ex, so they'll be happy to see a new face. The sole fact that you aren't him will be points in your favor."

"What, were you dating a convict or something?" Mark asked with a disbelieving shake of his head.

Felicity grinned. "Please say yes."

Mark settled back into his chair, studying her face. After a moment he smiled a bit and said, "Okay. Yes."

 

* * *

 

Thanksgiving was a busy time in the Merlyn household, and this year was no different. While their cook did most of the cooking and their maid did the cleaning, there was still a frenetic energy rippling through the house. Tommy worked on mixing himself a manhattan, trying to ignore his father's booming voice one room over.

Oliver strolled in, Thea in his wake, and the latter sidled up to Tommy and asked, "You want to make me one of those?"

He looked down at her and quipped, "Oh, did you turn twenty one when I wasn't looking?"

"Come on," she sighed. "It's not like I'm driving. You can go light on the whiskey." She considered this for a moment and then added, "Not too light, though. You have to preserve the integrity of the drink."

Tommy laughed. "The integrity of the drink? Okay, you know what, I'll make you something."

He reached into the stocked bar and mixed toghether 7-up and grenadine. He plopped in a few maraschino cherries and then handed it to her.

"There you go, a Shirley temple. A nice age appropriate drink."

Thea glared at him. "Very funny, Tommy."

"I think so." He turned his attention to Oliver and asked, "What about you, buddy?"

"Whiskey neat," he said. The door opened in foyer and Oliver turned his head, looking at the front door. He wished he hadn't looked because there was Felicity, looking absolutely beautiful wrapped up in her red coat and scarf, and next to her was a tall blonde. He must be Mark, the guy she'd gone on a few dates with. He was wearing a well-tailored trench coat and his dark blonde hair was tousled in a way that suggested product. Oliver watched him help Felicity out of her coat and then turned around before he could see any more.

Tommy had seen all of this, too, and he poured Oliver a double, handing it to him without a word. Oliver took a large mouthful, wincing as the liquid burned his throat.

"Is that your cousin Felicity?" Thea asked Tommy. She'd heard a lot about her but hadn't seen her before.

"Yeah."

"And her boyfriend?" Thea asked. Not waiting for a response she added, "He is super cute. Great hair."

"You really think so?" Oliver asked, taking another peek.

"Oh yeah," Thea said, nodding appreciatively. "Really great hair."

Felicity and Mark walked over, Felicity positively beaming while Mark had the grace to look marginally uncomfortable. Good, Oliver thought, he should feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Hi guys," Felicity said, smiling wide. "This is Mark."

"Nice to meet you," Tommy said.

"Yeah, nice to meet you," Oliver said with a tight grin. Felicity gave him a strange look and then turned her attention to his sister.

"Let me guess, you're Thea," Felicity said. "I have heard so much about you."

"Me too," Thea said. "I'm happy to finally meet you. I was half convinced Oliver was making you up."

Oliver shot his sister a look that she promptly ignored. "It was all Felicity this, Felicity that," Thea continued, "I'm happy to see you aren't imaginary."

"For the record, I haven't had an imaginary friend since I was six," Oliver interjected.

"You had an imaginary friend?" Felicity said in a small voice. "That's adorable."

"So, what do you guys want to drink?" Tommy asked. "The bartender is at your service."

"You're here to avoid actually talking to people, aren't you?" Felicity asked knowingly.

"Yep," Tommy said, not even trying to deny that he was hiding from his family. "Aunt Shira already commented on Heather's weight gain." Felicity winced. "Yeah, so I figured it was safer to hide behind the bar."

"Has Brian started going off about how Thanksgiving is a holiday about us slaughtering people yet?" Felicity asked. Tommy shook his head and she glanced up at Mark as she quipped, "Well, then we haven't missed any of the truly good stuff."

Thea had been watching the exchange with wide eyes and breathed out, "Your guys' Thanksgiving is so much better than ours."

Tommy grinned. "So, seriously, what do you want to drink?"

"I'll have a whiskey sour," Mark said. Beside him Felicity said, "Red wine, please."

"You want me to just give you the bottle now?" Tommy teased. "Save you a few trips back here?"

"Very funny," she said drily. "And no, one glass is fine. I have to drive this one home." She knocked her elbow lightly against Mike's arm.

"You drove?" Oliver asked in surprise.

"I don't have a car," Mark explained. "I like to use public transportation. It's better for the environment."

Oliver's baseless dislike of him grew.

"Well, if you happen to have one glass too many I can drive you home," Oliver told Felicity. He glanced at Mark and added, "And I can drop you off at the nearest bus stop."

Felicity stared at him while Tommy snorted.

Mark feigned a convivial grin and returned, "That's very considerate of you."

"I just look out for the people I care about."

"Oh look, our drinks are ready," Felicity said in a shrill voice, picking the drinks up from the bar. She handed Mark his drink and said, "Well, we're going to make the rounds. Tommy, is my mom somewhere around here?"

"Yeah."

"Good, well I'll go find her."

She took a hold of Mark's arm and pulled him out of the room. Tommy watched them go and murmured, "Way to mark you territory, Oliver."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Oliver returned easily.

"You practically peed on her," Tommy said.

Thea, who had not been privy to the earlier conversations of a similar sort, glanced between the two and then blurted out, "Wait, you like her?"

At the same time Oliver said, "No" and Tommy said, "Yes."

"Oh my God, you're lying. Which means you _do_ like her," Thea enthused. She looked at Tommy. "He likes her, right?"

"Big time," Tommy said.

"I'm going to go say hi to your dad," Oliver said in a tight voice. "Thank him for having Thea and I over for dinner."

"Just follow the dulcet tones of his drunken ranting," Tommy said.

Oliver headed off and Thea rested her hands on the bar, leaning in toward Tommy.

"So, how are we going to get rid of the guy?" she asked.

"You're scheming on Thanksgiving?"

"Every day is a day for scheming," she told him firmly. "Especially when it's for my brother's happiness. So again, what do we do about the guy?"

Tommy grinned. "I have a few ideas."

 

* * *

 

"It's ridiculous. We celebrate a holiday where we basically showed up and murdered, raped, and pillaged the native people. And then, what do we do to the ones who stood up and survived? We pack them away in some small bullshit plot of land and make it look like some altruistic gesture. We're letting them _preserve_ their culture. Yeah, right. The only thing we're preserving is our dominance."

Mark and Felicity stared at Brian, the giver of what would surely be only the beginning of a day-long rant.

"So, um, I still didn't really get where you're from," Mark said after a moment. Felicity choked down an inappropriate laugh beside him.

"Covington," Brian said. "It's about forty minutes from here."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah."

"Oh, Mark, I see someone you need to meet," Felicity said smoothly, looping her arm through his. "Brian, we'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure."

They walked off, Felicity pressing her mouth against his shoulder as she tried to keep her laughter at bay.

"So, that's your cousin Brian," Mark said.

"He's a handful," she said. "That was actually a pretty mild rant. Usually they're a lot more graphic in the depiction of the murdering, raping, and pillaging."

"Huh. I sort of feel like I was jipped in the rant department now."

"We can go back," she said innocently. "I'm sure he'd be happy to elaborate."

"You know, I think I'm good with what I got," he said.

Someone came up to Mark, laying a hand on his arm. "Excuse me, you're the chef right?"

Felicity recognized her as the Merlyn's cook.

Mark nodded in surprise. "Um, yeah. That's me."

"Can I borrow you for a moment? There's a gravy situation happening in the kitchen."

"A gravy situation?" Mark repeated. "Well, that sounds ominous." He glanced over at Felicity and said, "It looks like duty calls."

"Do you mind?" she asked tentatively. She didn't bring him here to cook.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said. "I'll just find you later?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll find you later."

She watched him walk away, unaware of Tommy and Thea standing off to the side of the room, giving each other a high five. She stood alone in the middle of the room, taking a sip of her wine.

"Where'd your chef go?"

She turned around, drawing her wine glass to her chest as she looked up at Oliver.

"He's helping out in the kitchen."

"Oh, how helpful of him."

She pressed her wine glass against his chest and said, "Whatever problem you have with him, please just get over it. It's uncomfortable."

She pulled her wine glass back and took a sip.

"I don't have a problem with him."

She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, you don't? Then what the hell was before? The whole dropping him off at a bus stop thing?"

"I was joking," Oliver said. She looked unconvinced and he repeated, "It was a joke."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, you don't have to like him. Whatever. But, you have to be nice to him. I really like him."

"Oh, you do?" he said. "You really like him?"

"Yes," she said angrily. "Why is this so surprising to you?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you've known him for, what, two minutes?"

"Two weeks," she corrected heatedly. "And who cares how long I've known him? Why should that have any bearing on whether or not I like him?"

"I'm just saying, you don't know him that well."

"I'm not having this conversation," she said. "Especially not with you."

She turned and walked away from him, drawing a few looks as she stalked off. Tommy came up to him and asked, "What the hell did you say to her?"

"Nothing," Oliver said, jaw ticking as he frowned.

 

* * *

 

The next part of Tommy and Thea's attack was the seating arrangement. Malcolm, showing typical type-A behavior, always had a rigid seating chart with little place cards directing people to their proper seat. There was no changing seats. No shifting the plan he set. Most were wary to cross him, but Tommy did not suffer from that particular affliction.

He crept into the dining room, stealing a glance behind him, and deftly switched Oliver and Mark's place cards. Oliver, who previously was seated at the clear other side of the table from Felicity was now seated beside her. Tommy, having a last moment of brilliance, moved one of his chattier aunts next to Mike. He liked the guy for most intents and purposes – save for the fact he was getting in the way of his best friend and cousin getting together – so he didn't want him to have to sit through dinner in silence. Aunt May would get him talking and keep him talking.

When it was dinnertime they all walked into the dining room, Malcolm making the usual overtures that people should sit where their name card was placed. Tommy nudged Thea's arm as he walked past her and tilted his head toward where Oliver and Felicity were standing beside each other, glancing down at their place cards.

"Well done," she said under her breath.

Felicity wished she could move – her previous interaction with Oliver leaving her feeling rather cold toward him – but she knew better than to mess with the seating at Thanksgiving. There was one Aunt who was actually barred from coming to dinner after switching her seat several years in a row. Malcolm was deadly serious about his seating arrangement.

Mark was on the completely opposite end of the table where even a proper raised voice wouldn't reach him over the din of eating and conversation. Thankfully Aunt May was next to him. She'd keep him part of conversation. She gave him a sort of apologetic wave and he smiled back, shaking his head as though to tell her it was okay.

"I wonder why Malcolm put your date all the way over there?" Donna Smoak said with a disgruntled sniff. "Seems strange to me."

"It's fine. He's a good talker."

"Well, that's good." She leaned forward a bit and smiled toward Oliver. "I don't think we've met. I'm Donna Smoak."

"Your Felicity's mother," he said in recognition. He saw then that they shared the same wide eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Oliver Queen."

"Oliver! Well, I've heard all about you."

Oliver felt a certain sense of satisfaction at knowing Felicity had told her mother about him.

"Hopefully all good things," he said smoothly.

"Not right now," Felicity murmured under breath.

"What was that, sweetie?" Donna said.

"Nothing but good things," Felicity said crisply, unfolding and then refolding her napkin on her lap.

Most of the food was already on the table, save for the turkey. Malcolm walked out with the turkey on an impressive platter, applause meeting him as he set it down on the table. The table watched as he carved the first piece. Just like every year, after the formal first cut was made the bird went back in the kitchen to be fully carved and served.

"Maybe one year he will actually carve it at the table," Donna said in a soft voice, giving her daughter a look. Felicity grinned and returned, " I wouldn't bet on it."

"So, Oliver, I hear that you run Verdant with Tommy," Donna said, working to engage Oliver in conversation. Seated between them, Felicity wished she would try less.

"I do, yes."

"Is it a lot of work? I'd imagine it would be quite the drain."

"It was a lot of work when we started," Oliver said. "It's leveled off a bit now. We have a good following. But it definitely has its moments."

Felicity reached for her water goblet just as Oliver did the same, their hands brushing. She pulled back quickly, a jolt running up her spine. She glanced over at Oliver, taken aback by the stricken look on his face.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I…I think that's mine. It's the one on the right, I think?"

"You're right," he said, swallowing hard.

Across the table Tommy murmured, "Called it."

 

* * *

 

The dinner was absolute torture. Felicity should have been paying attention to her date across the table, making sure he was having a good time, but instead her focus kept being pulled to Oliver. She could feel every shift he made, and then his arm would brush hers sometimes and he'd sputter these apologies. And, of course, her mother kept talking with him. His face would turn toward her then, his warm breath inadvertently bathing her face as he spoke to her mother. She pressed herself against the back of her chair, trying to distance herself from him, but there was no point. She started to think he might be jus as inescapable if he was across the table.

She liked Mark. He was nice. He was a chef. He treated her well and agreed to her crazy idea that he go to a Thanksgiving dinner with her after only two dates. She kept reminding herself of all of this. Mark was a good catch. But, her mind would wander. Suddenly, rudely, she was back on that couch in Oliver and Tommy's apartment, Oliver's hands pushed under her shirt and his mouth against her neck. She watched him lick his dry lips as he spoke with her mother and nearly lost it right there.

This was ridiculous. She was supposed to be mad at him, not lusting after him. She grabbed her wine and drained the rest of the deep red liquid. Her hands itched for a third glass, but she knew it would render driving unwise, and she didn't want to end up in a car with Oliver.

"Excuse me," she said suddenly, pushing her chair back from the table and standing up. She rushed from the table, needing fresh air. She walked out onto the patio, the cold November air cooling her skin and her libido. She reached up and smoothed her hair, taking slow, measured breaths.

She leaned against the brick wall, closing her eyes. They drifted open when she heard the French door slide open and close again. Oliver settled beside her on the wall. He slipped off his suit jacket and coaxed it around her shoulders.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"I got a little overheated," she said. "It's warm in there, isn't it?"

"Not really," he said.

"It was warm," she held. "So, I just needed some fresh air."

They were both silent for a long moment, the cold air whistling in the silence. She felt him shift beside her and then he said, "I'm sorry that I upset you earlier."

"It's okay," she said. "I'm sorry I got so incensed. I…I don't know."

"What is it?"

She turned her head toward him and asked, "Why were saying all that stuff before? About Mark?"

"Felicity-"

"Because you don't know him. You don't. And you don't just attack people like that. So, why did you do it? Why did you say those things?"

Because he was jealous. Because he wanted to be the one her arm. Because he wanted to be the person she introduced to people, and looked up at the way she looked up at Mark, and whispered things to like she whispered things to Mark. He wanted to be her person, but he couldn't say that. Because what if he did, and he hurt her. What if he couldn't be the person that being with her made him feel he could be, and everything was ruined?

Because he was a coward.

Felicity took a deep breath and then let it out. She slipped his coat off and handed it back to her.

"I'm going to go back inside."

She didn't wait for him to respond, walking back inside. Mind set, she walked over to where Mark was seated at the table and asked Aunt May if they could switch seats. Aunt May hesitated, more from surprise than anything else, and then said, "Of course, dear. You sit with your date."

"Thank you, Aunt May."

Felicity sat down, squeezing Mark's knee under the table.

"Miss me?" she asked with a soft grin. She could hear Oliver walk back into the room, but kept her gaze trained on Mark.

"I don't know, your Aunt May is pretty awesome," Mark said. "She met Barbra Streisand?"

"Oh, none of what she told you is true," Felicity told him. "She's a habitual liar."

"Really?"

She nodded. "But it's something that makes her a fun dinner guest. We always like to see how far she'll go."

"Interesting."

Across the table Oliver settled in Felicity's previous seat, Aunt May accidentally taking hers. Donna glanced at him and then over at her daughter on the other end of the table.

"Double chocolate cake," Donna murmured.

Oliver looked at her in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Whatever little argument my daughter and you are in. She responds very well to double chocolate cake. It's how I ended most of our arguments when she was a teenager. And there were many. Arguments that is. And chocolate cakes, I suppose."

"Is that so?"

Donna nodded and then added. "The more frosting the better."

He glanced over at Felicity. "Good to know."

 

* * *

 

By the next week Felicity had leftover chocolate cake in her refrigerator.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Felicity never was very adventurous in bed. Her high school boyfriend didn't function beyond simple missionary - even that he didn't do particularly well – and then Nick had been resistant to anything remotely new or different. But as her and Mark passed their one month anniversary she wanted to spice things up. So, she searched the location of the nearest Lovers Lane – a search she immediately wiped from her browser history – and picked up a tub of edible Vanilla-Bourbon body butter.

Naturally, she turned out to be allergic to it.

Half-naked in Mark's bed she broke out in a rash all over her body and her tongue inflated to the size of a dill pickle. She panicked, knocking over what she later learned was an antique Tiffany lamp as she gasped for air.

As her vision blurred she thought to herself that this was what she got for experimenting and it really wasn't fair she was allergic to the body butter. That stuff tasted really good.

She was taken to the nearest hospital by ambulance, Mark riding in the front. As she gasped for air under the oxygen mask she could hear him asking over and over again if the hospital was close yet.

One steroid shot and a few units of fluid later she was still a bit puffy, but able to breath on her own. She thought the worse was over, and then Oliver and Tommy burst into her room.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked in a hoarse voice, glancing over at Mark as Tommy rushed over to the side of her bed. Oliver hung back by the door, but she could read the tension in the set of his shoulders.

"Tommy called your phone," Mark explained quickly. "I sort of had to tell him."

Felicity groaned.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tommy demanded. "You have an IV in your arm and you look like Aunt Martha when she eats shrimp."

"I'm fine. I just had an allergic reaction to something I ate," Felicity told him. She glanced over at Oliver and said, "Really, I'm fine. You guys didn't have to rush here. In fact, you guys can leave. Like, right now even!"

Tommy glared at Mark. "You served her something with peanuts, didn't you?"

"I didn't serve her peanuts," Mark responded. " I'm a chef. We pretty much ask for food allergies right after hello."

"It wasn't peanuts," Felicity echoed. "It was…something else."

"What else?" Tommy said. "Do you have another weird food allergy?"

Felicity nodded emphatically. "Yep, that's it. Another weird food allergy."

Tommy, jumping off from what she said, immediately continued with, "But, what –"

Felicity interrupted him by yawning loudly. "Man, I am beat. I think I'm going to nap now. You guys can head home. I think they're discharging me tomorrow morning."

"They're keeping you overnight?" Oliver asked.

"For observation," Felicity said. She saw the worry pulling at the corners of his eyes. "It's standard procedure. Really. I'm fine."

The doctor walked in, chart wedged under his arm, and an easy smile pulling at his mouth.

"Hello Felicity. I see you have a few visitors."

"I'm her cousin," Tommy said by way of greeting. Oliver, following suit, murmured, "I'm…his roommate."

The doctor blinked, nodding a bit. "Okay then. Felicity, I'm glad to see your swelling has gone down."

"Me too, Dr. Ribbon," Felicity said.

"How's your tongue feeling?" he asked.

"Fine, I think," she said. He stepped forward and pulled a small flashlight from his pocket.

"Can you open your mouth for me?"

Felicity opened her mouth wide and he shined the flashlight in. "It still looks a little swollen," he said, clicking the flashlight off. "Definitely better, though."

"Will I be able to leave tomorrow morning?" she asked.

He nodded, slipping the flashlight back in his pocket. "I don't see why not."

"Should she stay away from any foods or anything when she leaves?" Mark asked, laying his hand casually on her shoulder. She glanced up at him and he squeezed her shoulder.

Dr. Ribbon shook his head. "Not really. I'd stay away from any other edible lotions, though." Felicity froze, feeling both Oliver and Tommy's gaze snap to her face. Dr. Ribbon continued, unaware of the shift in the room. "We don't know exactly what set off her reaction, but it may be a common ingredient among edible lotions. So, if I were you, I'd steer clear of them."

Mark nodded. "Okay, we will. Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome. I'll check in with you tomorrow morning, Felicity."

Felicity waited for Tommy's reaction. He at least had the good sense to wait until the doctor had left.

"Edible lotion?" he said, the timbre of his voice belying the laughter he attempted to cover.

"Shut up," Felicity said, glowering.

"I have to say, you two continue to surprise me," Tommy said. "Let me guess the flavor – strawberry cheesecake."

"I am not taking part in this conversation," Felicity held stubbornly.

"I'm going with vanilla," Oliver added. "Or maybe something with caramel."

"You guys are the worst," Felicity groaned. She looked to Mark for some agreement, but he looked positively amused. She rolled her eyes, pulling the blanket up under her arms.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Tommy and Oliver sat on their couch, playing a game of Mario Kart before heading to Verdant to do an inventory of their back liquor room. It would be a long day, and both were putting off beginning it.

"I should have been a Nascar driver," Tommy mused, sending Yoshi around a tight curve with ease. "Look how I hugged that curve."

"I'm pretty sure the skills for race car driving and Mario Kart driving are pretty different," Oliver said. He frowned when his car crashed into the wall.

"You're just jealous because you're an awful Mario Kart player."

"Excuse me? I've beaten you on many occasions." He swore under his breath as he ran his car off the elevated road, his car dropping down into an unidentified body of water.'

"Uh huh," Tommy said with a smirk. "You want to say that when you're not plummeting off the road?"

"I'm just off my game this morning."

"I get it," Tommy said, his voice heavy with meaning.

"What do you mean you get it?" Oliver asked, somewhat irritated.

"I mean, we had first row seats to Felicity and Mark's sex life last night. That couldn't have been easy for you."

Oliver's shoulders tensed. "Whatever. It's not like I had any illusion that they weren't…doing that."

Tommy snorted. "You can't even say the word."

"I'm not off because of that. I didn't sleep well."

"Sure."

Tommy's tone was obvious and Oliver shot him a look. "My room was too warm. We need to put the heat lower at night."

"Right, the heat. That's what kept you up."

"Felicity can do whatever she wants," Oliver said. "I told you, I'm over it."

And he was. At least that's what he told himself. After Thanksgiving he told himself – and Tommy – that he was finished with whatever had inadvertently started between him and Felicity. She had Mark and for all intents and purposes he seemed like a good guy. She liked him, and that in itself was a point in Mark's favor. He treated her well, and as far as Oliver could see he made her happy. That's what he really wanted. For her to be happy. He wasn't about to ruin that.

"You're an idiot if you believe that," he said. "You should have seen your face when I told you she was in the hospital."

"I care about her," Oliver said with a shrug. "Of course I was worried. So were you."

"Alright, you're over it," Tommy said dismissively, seeing that pushing the subject was futile. "But when you realize that you're actually not, just remember that I'm here for you."

"Fuck," Oliver said, his car careening off the side of the road again.

Tommy chuckled. "Man, you really are bad at this today."

His phone rang on the table and he leaned forward, picking up the phone and swiping into the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Mark."

"Mark," Tommy said in surprise. Beside him, Oliver's attention snapped to him. "What's up? Is Felicity okay?"

"She's fine," he said quickly. Tommy gave Oliver a thumbs up. "Actually set to be discharged in about an hour. That's what I'm calling about. I was supposed to pick her up but one of my chefs called in sick today and I really can't afford to leave the kitchen. Do you think you could take her home?"

"Uh, yeah, of course. That's no problem. You said she'd be ready in an hour?"

"About that, yeah."

Tommy, mind whirring, nodded and said, "I'll send Oliver."

"Okay, perfect. Thank you so much. I – " he broke off, and Tommy heard him yell something about salmon. "- I'm sorry. The kitchen is crazy this morning. One of our fish shipments is wrong, and – " there was a loud crash, " – I really have to go."

"We'll get Felicity. No problem. Bye Mark."

"Bye."

He hung up and Oliver asked, "Where are you sending me?"

Tommy grinned. "You, my friend, are white knighting Felicity from that hospital."

 

* * *

 

Felicity sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Mark to come and take her home. She'd already signed all the discharge papers and promised her nurse that she would stay away from all edible lotions. She'd shaken her head solemnly and swore, "I will never even look at another tub again."

She was scrolling through her phone, smiling at some baby pictures on Facebook, when someone walked in. She glanced up, fully expecting to see Mark, but then Oliver was standing in front of her.

"Oliver, hi," she stammered.

He smiled softly. "Hello Felicity."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take you home. Mike's stuck in the kitchen."

"Please tell me it's his kitchen and not yours." Oliver gave her a strange look and she elaborated. "I wouldn't put it past Tommy to make him cook you guys waffles or something."

"That's a great idea," Oliver joked. "But, no, he's at the restaurant."

She nodded. "Okay, well, then let's go."

"Do you have all your stuff?"

She nodded. "And I signed all the forms. I am very eager to, well, not be here."

Oliver smiled. "I don't blame you."

"I mean, they were nice," she said, leading him out of the room. "And hospital pudding is in a league of its own. But, you get poked and prodded at all hours of the day. And I kept hearing people call me Edible Lotion Girl."

Oliver snorted. "Really?"

She nodded. "I mean, I get it. I probably would do the same thing. But it's still embarrassing."

"If it makes you feel better, I've landed myself in the hospital before, too."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean with…"

"Not edible lotion," he filled in. "But, under… _similar_ circumstances."

"Okay, now you have to tell me," she said, looking up at him as they walked side by side down the hallway. "Wait, is this a gross story? Maybe I don't want to hear it."

He laughed. "Let's just say I pulled something and ended up out of commission for a good few weeks."

"Ouch."

"So, you're not alone. It happens."

"Well, thank you. I feel marginally less bad now."

"I'm happy to help."

They walked out of the hospital and went into Oliver's car. They held casual conversation as Oliver drove, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. She'd forgotten what it was like to just talk with Oliver, how easy it was. Since Thanksgiving they didn't spend much time alone. Tommy was always there – usually by one of their designs – and when they were together the conversation was careful and controlled. In the wake of her hospitalization they'd fallen back into their old pattern somehow, and she hadn't realized how much she missed it. Missed him.

He pulled into a parking spot in front of her apartment and walked her upstairs. Not wanting their time together to end just yet she quickly offered him some breakfast.

"It's almost noon," he reminded her.

"Well, then how about some lunch? I have some lunch meat in my refrigerator. Actually, it might be expired. But we can order something. Al's Pancake World has good Thai on Thursdays."

She was so eager, looking up at him with wide eyes and rambling on about Al's Pancake World. She'd stepped forward in her zeal and they were standing barely a foot from each other. If he just stepped a littler forward, leaned down toward her…no. This was why he had to leave.

"Tommy's expecting me at Verdant."

His words had a sobering effect on her and she nodded, stepping back as she said, "Right. Um, okay then. Tell him I say hi."

"I will."

He turned to leave and she called out for him.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for picking me up. It was very nice of you."

He shrugged and said, "What else are friends for?"

She nodded blankly. Friends. They were friends. It was her choice. His choice. _Their_ choice.

Why did it feel like settling?

"Bye Oliver."

"Good bye, Felicity."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted later this afternoon! Three to go until we're all caught up!!


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Felicity stood in front of the display, working her bottom lip anxiously between her teeth as her gaze shifted from one high speed blender to another. She reached toward the Ninja Ultima but then pulled her hand back, gaze torn to the stately Vitamix beside it.

"For the love of God, just pick one."

Felicity turned her head toward Mark, who was waiting somewhat impatiently beside her with a full cart. Most of the cart was hers, save for the short stack of dishtowels in the front seat meant for small children.

"This is a decision that requires thought. You, of all people, should understand that."

"Not when one is two hundred dollars less than the other and they both _are exactly the same_."

"No they aren't," Felicity held. "One is the Ninjja Ultima and the other is a Vitamix."

"Both are high speed blenders that do the exact same thing," he said slowly. " Seriously, I've worked with both. They're the same thing, except the Vitamix is twice the price."

"Bobby Flay uses a Vitamix," Felicity mused, running her fingers along the blender's ebony base.

Mark snorted. "I didn't know you held Bobby Flay in such a high regard."

"Of course I do," she said off-handedly. "He's a national treasure."

"National treasure?"

She turned her face up to him and said, "And, you should know, he is on the list of people that are allowed to cook for me while we're dating."

He laughed. They'd joked about such a list near the beginning of their relationship, when she told him about Tommy making her runny scrambled eggs one morning. He'd told her that if their relationship was to work they'd have to set some ground rules – one being that he was the only person who could cook for her. Naturally, this prompted a list of exceptions.

"Who else was on that list again?"

"Mario Batali," Felicity began, counting them off on her fingers. "Gordon Ramsay. Jamie Oliver. And, of course, Giada."

"Who can forget Giada?"

"I never do," Felicity said, attention drawn back to the current blender-dilema. "Alright, I'm going with the Vitamix."

"The Vitamix," Mark repeated, crouching down and picking up one the boxes stacked under the display. He dropped it in the cart and Felicity went, "Hey, be careful with Fernando. He isn't cheap."

"Did you just name the blender?" he asked with a wry grin.

"For its price it deserves a name."

Mark laughed, taking hold of the cart and heading down the aisle. They both were silent for a while, Felicity eying her new high speed blender happily and Mark caught up in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he glanced over at her and said, "So, my parents are visiting this weekend."

"That's nice," Felicity said casually. "What for?"

"Just to visit," he said. "I've told them how beautiful Starling City winters are and they've finally decided to come and see it themselves."

"What's so beautiful about Starling City in winter? It's just a bunch of blustery winds and grey sludge."

"I can't believe you," he said with mock outrage. "Starling City changes in the winter. Have you ever seen Daubert Park after a good snow? It clings to the evergreens and dusts the playground like powdered sugar."

She grinned at the image. "It sounds nice."

"It is nice," he said. "Anyway, what are you doing this weekend? I was hoping to introduce you to my parents."

Felicity froze.

"Your parents?" she stammered.

"Yeah. I've told them a lot about you –"

"You have?" she interrupted, laughing nervously as she felt her face flush.

"Well, yeah, we've been dating for a few months now. Your name's come up a few times."

She nodded in what she hoped looked like a normal way and not erratic-inwardly-freaking-out-way. Because she was. Inwardly freaking out, that was. Meeting the parents was a big deal. It was the next step, one toward decidedly serious territory, and while she liked Mark she hadn't thought of them moving in that serious-meeting-the-parents-direction.

Maybe she should have. That's what adults in relationship did, after all. They moved on to the next step, the next level. They were only seeing each other, that hinted toward serious, and she let him use her iphone charger, which was a privilege reserved for only the closest people in her life.

"I might have a thing this weekend," Felicity said. "But, um, I'll let you know."

He nodded. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Oliver liked shipment days. There was something about watching the back room of his club stacked high with crates of the finest liquor that made him feel like him and Tommy had really made it. People had balked at them when they first opened the club. They viewed Tommy and Oliver as these spoiled rich kids who took their family money and threw it at the first venture that caught their eye. And in a way they were right. The Merlyn and Queen families did invest heavily in the club, but it was in no way a quick decision by Tommy and Oliver. They'd been talking about starting a business together for as long as both of them could remember, it just wasn't until later they'd found the appropriate venue.

"I'm thinking maybe we should shop around for our whiskey," Tommy said, looking over the details for the large shipment of Jack Daniels they'd just received. "I think we can get a better price."

"When's our contract over?"

"Two months," Tommy said. "That gives us time to shop around. Maybe bring them some lower price quotes to make them drive down their price. Nothing like some healthy competition."

"A page out of your playbook," Oliver joked.

"Yes," Tommy said, putting the receipt down on the bar counter. "Speaking of that, I have a story to tell you."

"Okay."

"So, I was at the gym earlier today and I ran into none other than Sara Lance. Anyway, we started talking and I ended up asking her out on a date."

"You what?"

"Well, with the you and Felicity thing – "

"There is no me and Felicity thing," Oliver said in a tone that loudly hinted at the number of times he'd had to voice such denial. Tommy, in similar practice, rolled his eyes.

"Right. You're the only one who thinks that. Anyway, it made me think that if you can do more, maybe I can, too. And Sara's pretty hot."

Oliver snorted. "Always the beginning of a long and lasting relationship."

Tommy shook his head, holding out a hand. "No, it's more than that. I like her. She was pretty cool at the beer Olympics and she only made one comment when I was using the lat machine wrong this morning. Anyway, I took a chance and it worked."

"She said yes?"

Tommy flashed him a wide grin. "You bet she did. I'm taking her out for dinner tomorrow night."

"Where are you going?"

"Mercadito," he said.

Oliver nodded appreciatively. "Not bad. You're pulling out all the stops."

"I like her, man," Tommy said, his face suddenly unguarded. It occurred to Oliver that he'd never seen his friend like this before. "She's…I don't know. She's different."

Oliver grinned. "I'm happy for you, Tommy. You deserve something good."

"Thanks."

"You know," Tommy began, regaining a bit of his bravado. "If this works out, and you finally get your shit together with Felicity, we could go on double dates. I bet I'd be great at double dates."

Oliver snorted.

 

* * *

 

Felicity had nothing going on that weekend. There were no things. No somethings. No previously planned occasions to keep her from meeting Mark's parents. The only thing she had was a crippling fear of taking their relationship to the next level. She thought about this all Friday when she was at work. She shouldn't have lied. That wasn't her. She was the person who was lied to, not the person who did the lying.

Still, she found herself breaking into a nervous sweat when she thought about meeting his parents. She imagined shaking his mom's hand, his dad's, his arm sliding around her waist as he introduced her as his girlfriend.

A shudder ran through her.

She tried to distract herself with a usual surefire combination – pizza, wine, and Netflix – but even the most tried and true measures proved unsuccessful. Her mind kept wandering and she was so scattered brained that she'd actually knocked her glass of wine off the table, making her white carpet look like a murder happened on it.

Finally, deciding that the bigger guns had to be brought in, she pulled a sweatshirt on over her leggings and tshirt, grabbed her purse, and made her way over the boys' apartment. A bit tipsy from the wine, she took the subway.

Oliver answered the door, hair sticking up in odd directions and mouth pulled into a yawn. He scratched the side of his head.

"Felicity, what are you doing here?"

"Were you sleeping?" she asked.

"I nodded off a bit," he said.

"It's eight o'clock," she said slowly.

He stepped back, letting her into the apartment. As he closed the door he said, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"A lot. What did you do today that requires an eight o'clock nap?"

"Shipments at Verdant," he said with a shrug. "A really intense game of Mario Kart."

She snorted, walking around him to the couch. She swatted his arm as she passed. He followed her and settled on the couch beside her, casually asking her what she was putting on the TV as she picked up the changer and turned it on.

"I think _When Harry Met Sally…_ is on Bravo," she said. "Hey, is Tommy in his room? He loves this movie – although he'll deny it to his grave."

"He's not here," Oliver said.

She glanced over at him in surprise. "What?"

"He's on a date."

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"With a girl?"

Oliver grinned. "Yes, a girl."

Felicity considered it for a moment. "She's not inflatable, right? Or one he ordered from an online service?"

Oliver laughed at that last part. "No, she is an actual real life girl. You know her, even. It's Sara Lance."

Felicity was impressed. Sara Lance was a no bullshit sort of girl, and not the type at all that Felicity would have seen going for Tommy. But, maybe that would be good for him.

"She agreed to go out with him? Well, maybe there's chance for him yet. Where'd they go?"

"Mercadito."

She smiled softly, flipping through the channels. "That's a good date place. It sounds like he's really trying."

"I think he is."

"If they get married it's going to be the best wedding ever," Felicity said with a teasing grin. 'You know they'll have good liquor."

"Only the best," Oliver agreed. "And tacos. I could see them serving tacos."

"Yes!" Felicity said. "I always liked untraditional wedding dinners. My friend from college had mini pub burgers. Ranks as one of my top three meals." She found Bravo, but frowned when her movie wasn't playing. "It must be playing tomorrow night."

"We can watch something else."

"Yeah, we – " she broke off when she saw a pile of board games stacked on a chair in the corner of the room. " – why do you have all those board games?"

"Oh, it's for Verdant's Toys for Tots drive."

She smirked. "A club is doing a Toys for Tots drive?"

"We're allowed to be charitable."

She pulled herself from the couch and walked over to the chair, leaning over as she rifled through the boxes. She made an excited sort of yelp when she spotted The Game of Life.

"I love this game! I used to make Tommy play with me all the time when we were little."

"What game?"

She turned around, holding the game to her chest. "Only the greatest game ever made."

"I've never played it."

Felicity's eyes widened. "You're kidding. Please tell me you're kidding."

Oliver shrugged. "I didn't play a lot of board games growing up."

"That is depressing," Felicity said, sitting down on the floor. She pulled the top off the game, grinning wide as her eyes landed on the familiar game board. Noticing a distinct lack of company on the floor, she glanced over at Oliver on the couch and said, "You don't expect me to play this game by myself, do you?"

Oliver smirked, standing up and walked over to her. He lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs under him.

"Alright, how do we play?"

"First you have to choose a car," she said, pointing to the pile of cars next to the game board. She plucked the bubblegum pink car from the bunch. Oliver chose a green one. She picked up a small pink peg person and wedged it into one of the holes on the car, Oliver followed suit with a blue peg person. They put their cars on the start space.

"Now, you decide whether to start a career or go to college. It's a better strategy to – " she stopped short when Oliver decisively turned his car to the face the career route of the board. " – go to college first."

"Why would I want to go to college in a board game?" he said. "That's not fun."

"But you have better earning potential."

"I don't need great earning potential. It's not real."

"Yes, but you have a lower chance of winning. See…" she pointed at the board, "… you get money every time you pass a payday space. You're working at a disadvantage without a college degree."

"This is a very classist board game," Oliver teased.

Felicity, perhaps more affronted than she should be by his comment, narrowed her eyes and said, "Do not disrespect The Game of Life."

He smirked. "Let's get career picking."

He ended up being a superstar making significantly more than her degree job. She pointedly ignored this, even when he referenced it repeatedly. The game went on, both of them picking up Life tiles as they went along, Oliver gloating each time they passed a payday. They stopped at the marriage Life space.

"You get to pick up your wife now," Felicity told him excitedly.

"Just like that?" he quipped, picking up a small pink peg and putting it beside his blue peg in the car. "That was deceptively easy. This Game of Life is giving children unrealistic expectations for life."

She gave him a look, putting the small blue peg besides her won pink on in her car.

"It's your turn," she said.

The next part of the game was Felicity's favorite. It was the portion with all the baby tiles, and Felicity always went through it with perhaps unwarranted nerves. She wanted to land on a baby tile. And every time she missed one she grew more anxious.

"Would you calm down?" Oliver said. "You still have two chances to have children."

"I know," she said. "I just don't want Elizabeth and Darcy to be childless."

Oliver smirked. She'd named her pair a few turns after the marriage space, and kept commenting on the various ramifications her turns had on the pair. When she'd asked him what his pair was named he'd told her, "Blue and pink peg."

When Felicity missed her last chance to adopt twins, Oliver took in her downtrodden visage and said, "Spin again."

"Really?" she asked with a tentative grin.

"Sure, why not."

She spun three more times before she finally landed on the tile.

"What are their names?" Oliver asked, watching her put two more pegs into the car. Without hesitation she said, "Fitz and Jane."

"Of course," he murmured with a grin. He went to spin the wheel when his phone rang. He picked it up from the table, surprised to see Thea's number flashing on the screen.

"Thea, what's up?"

Felicity watched him as Thea talked, his expression going from mildly irritated to concerned, and then back to irritated. When he hung up he stood, glancing around the room.

"What is it?" she said, standing up.

"It's Thea," he said. "She's at some party in the Glades."

"Seriously?" Felicity said with wide eyes. The Glades wasn't exactly a nice area during the day, but at night?

"She went with Roy," he said, referring to her sometimes boyfriend. "Apparently they got in a fight and she tried to call a cab but it still isn't there."

"Why didn't Roy take her home?" she asked.

"I'm sure he tried," Oliver said, rolling his eyes. "My sister tends to be dramatic when she's angry. I'm sure she'd refuse anything from him right now. I have to go pick her up."

"I'll come with you," Felicity said immediately.

"You don't have to," he said. "Stay here. Finish the game."

"It's not fun with one person," she said quickly. "And besides, it's a good twenty minute drive from here to the Glades. I'm sure you could use some company."

He met her gaze and she held it defiantly.

"You really don't mind?" he finally said.

"I'm the one who offered," she reminded him.

"Okay," he said. "Come on, we better leave before she calls the police or something."

 

* * *

 

For all her overtures on being good company on the car ride, Felicity found herself uncharacteristically quiet. She'd gotten a text message as they pulled away from his apartment. It was from Mark, and it told her where and when him and his parents were having brunch the next morning in case she could join them. It was such a casual and friendly text that she knew he hadn't caught on to her not so subtle evasions. It made her feel even worse.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked, noting her silence.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly. Too quickly.

"Because you promised to be good company," he reminded her lightly.

"I'm sorry, I did," she said, reaching up and smoothing her hair away from her face. "It's just, Mark texted me."

"Oh, okay," he said. "Do you need to call him or something?"

She shook her head. "He was just telling me about a brunch tomorrow." She paused, letting that settle. "It's with his parents."

"His parents," Oliver repeated. "So, he wants you to meet them?"

"That's the plan," she said.

"Well, I promise not to keep you out too late," he said.

"No, it's fine," she said. " I don't even know if I'm going. I told him I had things this weekend."

Oliver glanced over at her and then back at the road. "Things?"

"I know, it's vague," she said. "It's such a cop out, and the worst thing is that he didn't even notice."

"He had to have noticed."

"No! He didn't'!" Felicity said, turning toward him with fervor as she spoke. "That's just it. He didn't notice. He thinks so highly of me that he didn't even realize when I was flat out lying to his face. It's terrible. _I'm_ terrible."

"You're not terrible," he told her.

"No, I am. A guy – a really great guy – wants to introduce me to his parents and I make up an excuse to get out of it. What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Oliver told her gently. "You don't have to want to meet his parents."

"But I should," she said, shaking her head. "I should want to meet them. But…"

"But, what?"

"It feels like this big step," she said.

"It is," he said softly.

"Exactly, it _is_ a big step. And if I take it – if we take it – it means something. It makes us, I don't know, more _real_. Things don't just fizzle out after you meet the parents. They end."

Oliver sensed her hesitance, and he wanted to highlight it. He wanted to tell her that hesitance was the body's natural way of stopping you from doing something stupid, and she shouldn't meet Mark's parents. She shouldn't meet his parents because she was right. It did change things – make them more permanent – and meeting the parents was one step from moving in and rings and her leaving his life before she even got a chance to really find her place in it. He wanted to tell her all of this.

Instead he asked, "Do you care about him?"

"I do," she said without hesitation.

"Then you should meet his parents. It sounds like he means something to you, and if he does you should go. You'll regret it otherwise."

Felicity turned her gaze out the side window, swallowing the uncertainty on her tongue.

They were quiet for the rest of the drive, Oliver switching on the radio somewhere around Gibson Street and Felicity resting her head on the window. He slowed down when they pulled onto Pauling Street.

"She's outside of one of these houses," he said.

"How about that one?" she said, pointing at the house with people spilling out of the front door and open garage. Sure enough, there was Thea leaning against a tree. She had one leg folded up, the heel pushing against the trunk of the tree, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She pushed off the tree when she saw Oliver's car, walking toward the street She went to pull open the front door, but stopped when she saw Felicity in the passenger seat. She slipped in the back.

"Hi Felicity," Thea said. "Ollie, thank you so much for picking me up. I – "

"What are you doing at a party in The Glades?" Oliver demanded.

"I told you I was going to a party," she said.

"Not one in The Glades," he said.

"My boyfriend lives in The Glades," she argued. "Where did you think it was going to be?"

"Oh, so he's your boyfriend again? If Mom and Dad find out where you were tonight –"

"Don't you dare," Thea hissed. "There's no reason to tell them. I'm fine."

"Only because we picked you up," he said. "Did you really think it was safe being here this time of night?"

"I was with Roy," she said defensively.

"Yeah, well, I didn't see him waiting with you."

Thea rolled her eyes. " He was hiding behind the tree next to me," she said. "I told him to leave me alone, but I could tell he was watching to make sure no one, you know, jumped me or something."

"That's creepy," Felicity murmured. "And oddly sweet."

"Look, can we not have this argument right now?" Thea said, kicking Felicity's seat as she drew her knees to her chest. "My head is pounding."

"No doubt from all the underage drinking you were doing," Oliver intoned.

"Oh, like you were such a boy scout," Thea muttered.

"Thea-"

"Let's be nice," Felicity said in a measured voice, laying her hand on Oliver's arm. She could feel the tense muscles beneath her fingers. "She's safe. That's all the matters."

"She could have been hurt."

"But she isn't," Felicity repeated. "She's in your backseat mouthing off. Which is much better than the alternative, no?"

Oliver found himself unwittingly relaxing at both her touch and her tone. He glanced down at her hand, which was still on his arm, and she flushed, pulling her hand back to her lap.

 

* * *

 

"Do you mind dropping me off at my apartment?" Felicity said as they were stopped at a stoplight. She gestured to the cross street. "It's just a right here and then it's a few buildings down."

He knew where she lived, having been to her apartment several times, but he didn't remind her of that.

"Yeah sure."

The light changed and he turned right, rolling on down to her building and then stopping. She unclasped her seatbelt.

"Thanks for the ride," she said. Glancing back at Thea she added, "It was nice to see you again."

"You too."

Felicity climbed out of the car, giving both of them a small wave before walking to her building and disappearing inside. Oliver's gaze stayed on that closed door for a moment before he shifted the car into drive and continued down the street.

"You haven't told her how you feel yet, have you?" Thea asked.

Oliver tightened his jaw. "No, I haven't."

"You're an idiot. How can you let someone like that get away?"

"She's with someone," he said.

"So what?"

"She's happy," he said, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. "That's all I want for her."

"But are you happy?"

"It's not about me."

Thea was quiet in the back, and that's when he knew something was wrong. Thea Queen was never quiet. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"What is it?" He was met with silence. "Thea, what?"

"You love her."

Now it was his turn to be quiet.

 

* * *

 

Oliver's mind was reeling from what Thea said in the car, and it continued to reel when he opened a beer and put on some sports game that he only half followed. Did he love her? That was ridiculous. He couldn't love her. Loving her meant that he had the capacity to love, and if the ovations of half the scorned female population of Starling City had anything to say about it, that was something he didn't possess. But all the signs were there.

He was relieved when Tommy came home. His friend sat down with him on the couch, taking a quick swig from his beer.

"How was it?" Oliver asked.

"It was amazing," Tommy said in a dazed voice, smiling. "It was…wonderful, beautiful, _revelatory_."

"Revelatory, huh?" Oliver asked with an amused grin.

"All I got was a kiss on the cheek and it was still the best date I've ever been on."

"Really?"

Tommy nodded. "Maybe this straight and narrow isn't half bad. So, how was your night?"

Oliver took a pull from his beer. "Well, Felicity came over. We played The Game of Life. Picked Thea up from a party in The Glades. And I might have realized I love her."

"Thea?"

"Felicity."

Tommy stared at him. "Huh."

"So, that was my night."

"That's quite the night, buddy." Tommy said, clinking his beer bottle against Oliver's. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I actually gave her advice tonight to strengthen her relationship with Mark."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because I'm a masochist," Oliver said. "And, if being with Mark is really what will make her happy, that's what I want. She deserves that."

"She deserves epic romance," Tommy said. "The type that's turned into a fucking rom com. And if you think she's getting that with The Chef, well…" he took a sip of his beer, "…you're an idiot."

"That's the second time I've been called that tonight."

"We only say it because we care," Tommy told him with mock sincerity. "And remember you're not the only person implicated by your idiocy. Felicity has a right to know how you feel. Tell her and then let her decide."

Oliver thought about that for a moment and then murmured, "What if she still chooses him?"

Tommy frowned. "That would suck. But at least you'd have tried. When it comes to guys Felicity has the deductive skills of a toddler. Unless you tell her how you feel she'll never know. And she should."

 

* * *

 

It was decided. She was meeting his parents. If she didn't go she'd always question what happened next with Mark and whether it stemmed from her inability to take this next step. So, she was taking it. It frightened her to the core, but she was doing it. Because Oliver was right. She did care about Mark, and he was worth taking the chance on. It might not work out, but at least she'd have given it her all.

She stood in front of the full length mirror hanging from the door of her closet, trying to decide if her outfit was appropriate for meeting parents. It was a deep orange skirt paired with a cream cardigan with plum detailing. Her hair was pinned in a rough chignon at the base of her neck, and she'd curled a few face framing pieces in front. Her makeup was light; she'd even forgone her usual lipstick. Instead she wore a soft balm, the rest of her face highlighted with the lightest touch of powder and mascara.

There was a knock on the door and she pulled away from her mirror, walking out into the living room. She pulled open the door, surprised to find Oliver in her hallway.

"Oliver? What are you doing here?"

"I need to tell you something."

She blinked rapidly. "Um, okay? Is this going to take long? I'm actually sort of on my way out."

"No, it shouldn't-"

"Come in," she said, turning around and beckoning for him to follow as she walked in. "I took your advice about meeting Mark's parents today. I hope this outfit is parent appropriate. It's been a while since I've met any, and –"

Oliver took a hold of her arm, tugging her toward him. One arm slid around her waist, crushing her against him, as his hand came to the curve of her neck. He drew her mouth to his, and her eyelids drifted shut as his lips brushed against hers. He was tentative at first, his lips barely touching hers, but then he grew more bold, molding his mouth against hers. His fingers curled up into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging it loose from her pins. She didn't realize she was kissing him back, but then her arms wound themselves around his neck and it became a battle of wits and lungs as both screamed for her to pull away. She ignored her wits, but her lungs were not so easily avoided. She pulled back, breathing heavily with her forehead pressed against his.

"What did you come here to tell me, again?" she breathed out.

"Not much," he said, his breathing as ragged as hers. "Just that I love you."

"What?"

He brought his hands up to frame her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I love you, Felicity. I think I have for a while."

A slow smile spread on her face and she covered his hands with hers, turning her face and kissing his palm. She leaned in to kiss him again, but then stopped.

"Oh my God," she breathed out.

"What?" Oliver asked, concern coloring his voice.

"Mark," she murmured, pulling away from him. "I'm with Mark and I'm supposed to meet his parents in twenty minutes, and _oh my God_."

"Hey, hey it's okay," Oliver said, taking her hands in his. "We'll handle it."

"No, there's nothing to handle. There's…I'm with Mark. I can't – I can't do this. I can't do this to him."

Oliver's stomach twisted and he dropped her hands "You can't do this to _him_?"

"Oliver," she said, voice placating as she laid her hand on his arm. "Mark and I are together. He was going to introduce me to his _parents_."

"I see," he said coldly. "Well-"

"Don't leave," she said. "I just…give me a chance to end things properly. Please."

"End things?"

She walked over to him and placed her hands on his waist, rising on her tip toes to kiss him softly.

"Stay here," she said. "You can eat my food. Look through my drawers. But no reading my journal. There are some less than nice references to you in there."

Insecurity shone through his voice as he asked, "Are you really coming back?"

"I live here."

"You know what I mean."

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll come back to you."

 

* * *

 

As uncomfortable as Felicity thought breaking up with Mark would be before meeting his parents, it was even more uncomfortable. She called him from outside the restaurant, asking for him to meet her in her car. He'd looked confused as he climbed in the passenger seat, but painfully optimistic.

"I hoped you'd come," he said.

"I'm not going inside," she said softly. "That's not why I'm here."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What's going on?"

"I – um – I don't think we should see each other anymore."

It hung in the air for a moment, and then Mark said, "It's because I wanted you to meet my parents, wasn't it?"

"No," she said immediately. "Well, yes. Sort of. It's a big step, and I'm just not there with us. And I don't see myself everything really being there. I'm sorry."

He nodded, avoiding her gaze.

"Mark, I'm _really_ sorry."

"You know, you don't have to meet them," he said. "We can just keep on like we are. We don't have to be anything else, anything more."

"We can't," she said, shaking her head.

"I don't need more," he continued. "I just want you, and –"

"Mark, I _can't_ ," she said firmly.

He studied her face. "It's more than my parents, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"There's someone else."

It wasn't a question but she nodded anyway.

"Is it Oliver?"

She started a bit in surprise and he said, "I saw the way you two looked at each other. And there was all that stuff at Thanksgiving."

"I really am sorry," she said.

"Me too."

 

* * *

 

When Felicity got back she didn't see Oliver. But as she stepped forward, tossing her coat on the back of the couch, she saw him seated on the floor in front of the coffee table, carefully setting up the board for The Game of Life. He glanced up at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay," he said crisply. "So, I found this in your closet. I think I set it up correctly."

"It looks perfect," she says, her gaze more on his face than the game board.

"I tried to set it up like we had it before Thea called," he said as she sat down next to him, using his shoulder for balance on the way down. "I can't remember if you were on the roof caving in space, but I think you were. Anyway, do you want to finish the game?"

She nodded, leaning and kissing him softly. "I'd like that a lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up tonight!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Felicity always thought cuddling in bed was a waste of time. Why lay there, just _talking_ , when you could be out doing actual things? Nick was a cuddler in the beginning of the relationship, and she used to always be thinking about all the other things she could be doing. It had been a relief when the cuddling fell to the wayside. The rest of their intimacy falling off hadn't been as welcome, but cuddling she was happy to see go.

But then she met Oliver, and for the first time in her life she couldn't think of anything better than lying in bed with him all day, talking about everything and nothing as the rest of the world went on outside the confines of her bedroom. What was so good about doing things, anyway? You didn't have a nice warm comforter wrapped around you or Oliver's sturdy chest. She swore she could just lay there with the sound of his heart beating and be completely content.

"I probably should head home sometime this afternoon," Oliver said, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down her spine. "Tommy gets testy if left alone for too long."

"It's only been a day," she said.

"Two," Oliver corrected.

"No," Felicity said, burrowing her head into his chest. "Today's Sunday, and you…" she trailed off as she quietly counted the days, "…wow, okay, its been two days. How did I miss that?"

"Probably because we haven't left your apartment."

"The outside world is a scary place," she told him, propping herself up with her forearms on his chest. "We should not enter it except for the most dire circumstances."

"Dire circumstances?" he asked wryly.

She nodded solemnly and said, "Fires. Insect infestations. No coffee."

Oliver laughed, his chest rumbling beneath her arm. "I like how no coffee qualifies as a most dire circumstance to you."

"Laugh now, but you haven't seen me without coffee," she said. "It's not pretty."

"Does that mean you want me to go make you coffee now?"

She grinned. "No. I'll make it this time." She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Besides, you forgot the cinnamon yesterday."

"You have a man making you coffee and you're complaining about there not being cinnamon in it?" he teased, following her into the kitchen.

"The cinnamon is an integral part of the coffee making process," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. "It adds the slightest hint of both sweet and spice. You really can't overstate its importance."

Oliver grinned, shaking his head as he sat down at the kitchen table. He picked up the paper folded up on the edge of the table and flipped through it casually. He stopped on an article about his family's company. Queen Consolidated was doing its usual tour of the local charities for the holidays, and the media was doing its usual excessive coverage. The next big event was the Snowflake Ball – the jewel in Queen Consolidated's charitable crown. It was held at Starling City's Museum of Natural History each year, and all of Starling's best and brightest showed up.

Oliver typically went with whatever socialite he was stringing along at the moment, but this year was different. He glanced over at Felicity, who was quietly humming to herself as she scooped coffee grounds out of the tub. The song wasn't one he recognized, and he was sure if he asked she'd give him a look like everyone else on the planet besides him knew it.

It was all so domestic between them now. Her making them coffee and him reading through the paper. It was a stark difference from how his life had been only a year prior, and when he thought about bringing Felicity to the Snowflake Ball and how his family would read the situation, he knew he had to do something.

"Felicity, what are your plans for tonight?" he asked.

Felicity turned back toward him. "Nothing. Do we have a hot date I'm not aware of?"

He laughed. "I actually wanted to introduce you to my family. We usually have a family dinner every Sunday night, and I thought it could be nice if I brought you."

"You-you want me to meet your family?" Felicity stammered, reaching back in what she hoped read as a casual manner and grasping the counter with her fingers.

"Of course I do. I mean, you are my girlfriend."

Felicity grinned. They'd had the what-are-we talk last week, and she still grinned like an idiot every time they called each other what they'd decided on. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Relationship. It made her all so damn giddy that she wanted to dance around her kitchen.

She didn't, of course. He loved her and all, but there was a limit to just how much crazy she would show him.

"Yes, I am," she returned. "But, are you sure you want me to meet your family?"

"You've already met Thea," he pointed out. "And, yes, I am sure I want you to meet my family. You're very important to me, and I went them to know that. And to know you."

And just like that she melted into a pool of sentimentality. She walked over to him and sat on his lap, kissing him softly.

"I would love to meet your family. And, for the record, you are very important to me, too. So important, in fact, that I will even let you drink out of one of my favorite mugs."

She gave him another quick kiss and then hopped off his lap and went back to the counter. Oliver leaned back in his seat and said, "Your favorite mug. I feel very special."

"You should," she said, pouring fresh steaming coffee into her square Tardis mug. Remembering he liked his coffee black, she brought it over to him.

"It's square," he noted, taking the mug from her.

"It is," she said with a nod. "I think it enhances the flavor of the coffee."

Oliver brought the mug to his mouth and then stopped short, turning it this way and that way as he tried to ascertain the right way to drink from it.

"The corner," she advised. "It's the best place to drink from."

"Ah, okay."

He took a sip and a bit of the coffee dripped down his chin.

"It takes some practice," Felicity offered, reaching forward and wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Why is this your favorite mug again?" Oliver asked, putting it on the table.

"Because it's a Tardis," she explained simply. "And…" she went to the counter and picked up a small ceramic blue square, "…it has a top!"

"Why would a mug need a top?"

"Because it's a Tardis. It…" she saw the lack of comprehension on his face and murmured, "Just drink your coffee."

"Well, I am honored either way," he said. "I know how closely you guard your favorite mugs. I remember that time Tommy tried to drink out of your Breaking Bad mug."

"That's because he tried to put it in the microwave," Felicity argued. "He would have ruined the Heisenberg sketch."

"I'm glad that crisis was diverted," Oliver returned with a smirk. "You know, for the sake of your relationship."

"You joke, but our cousin Martha still doesn't talk to our cousin Joe because he spilled red wine on her Elvis throw blanket."

Oliver's lips quirked. "I'm a little concerned your cousin even has an Elvis throw blanket."

Felicity nodded slowly and said, "Yes, we all are."

Oliver took another tentative sip from the Tardis mug and smiled triumphantly afterwards when his face was dribble free. "I think I might have a hang of this!"

Felicity grinned. "You're a very quick learner."

 

* * *

 

Oliver came home and was immediately met with the smell of burned something. He closed the door behind him and called out, "What did you try to cook this time?"

"It wasn't him," Sara Lance said, addressing him from the couch. "I had an unfortunate bacon incident this morning. But it's good to know he has a track record."

"Sara, hi," Oliver said. "It's nice to see you."

"Oliver, you're here," Tommy said, walking out of his bedroom in fresh clothes and wet hair. He looked more groomed than Oliver had seen him in weeks. "You know, I forgot you lived her for a second."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I haven't been gone that long."

"It's been two days," he said. "Usually I'd consider this a bender and call in reinforcements."

"Who are the reinforcements?"

"Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan," Tommy answered. "They keep me company in my worry."

"How touching," Oliver deadpanned.

"How is my little cousin?" Tommy asked. "And if your answer involves anything remotely sexual, I will shave one of your eyebrows off while you sleep."

Sara snorted from the couch.

"She's good," Oliver said.

"Spend the entire weekend talking about me?" Tommy joked.

"Oh, of course," Oliver returned. "She told me about you as a kid. I told her about Spring Break 2011."

Tommy grinned nostalgically. "That was a good Spring Break."

"You guys are ridiculous," Sara said.

"It's a large part of our charm," Tommy quipped, sitting next to her on the couch. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She smiled reluctantly, leaning against him.

"Are you really dating him?" Oliver asked, hiking a thumb at Tommy. "Or are you being held against your will?" When Sara only responded with a grin he added, "Blink twice if you're a hostage. Or once. Blink once."

"For the love of God, she's not a hostage," Tommy said loudly. "Is it really that inconceivable that I could get myself someone like this?"

From beside him Sara said, "Yeah, it kind of is."

"Is there coffee in the pot?" Oliver asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's fresh," Sara said. "Help yourself."

Oliver poured himself a mug and took an experimental sip. It was good, but not as good as Felicity's.

"You know what's really good in coffee?" he asked. "A little bit of cinnamon. It makes it spicy and sweet at the same time."

"You sound like Felicity," Tommy said.

Oliver grinned.

"So, we're hitting up Jack and Ginger's tonight," Tommy said. "Are you in?"

"It's Sunday night," Oliver said.

"Oh right, you have that dinner with your family."

"We should call Felicity," Sara said. "Maybe she'd want to go?"

"Felicity actually is going with me to dinner," Oliver said, sitting down across from them.

"She's meeting your family?" Tommy said. "Well, shit."

"He means he's very happy for both of you and wish you nothing but the best," Sara filled in.

Oliver smirked. "Of course."

 

* * *

 

Felicity was great with parents. Nick's mother had loved her so much that she actually called her in tears after her and Nick's first breakup, telling her weepily that she hoped they could remain friends. His father hadn't been quite as friendly – which was probably a good thing – but he always gave her a firm handshake and a look that held grudging respect.

She was great with parents, but that didn't stop her from being terrified to meet Oliver's. She'd heard so much about them – the illustrious Queen family – and while she wasn't exactly from the other side of the railroad, she still felt some anxiety in just how highly esteemed his family was.

It also didn't help that Tommy called her, telling her all the things she shouldn't do around Oliver's parents. Some of the suggestions had been comical, but others made her nervous. He ended with a sweet, "Just be yourself and they will love you."

But, what if they didn't? What if all the little things that made Oliver fall in love with her made them absolutely hate her? Then, what would she do?

"You're quiet," Oliver noted as he drove them both to his parent's house.

"Oh, I'm just thinking," she said, offering him a weak smile.

He easily saw through what she'd said and told her, "You know, you have no reason to be nervous. They are going to love you."

"I know," she said. She added, a bit forcefully, "Parents love me. They always love me."

Oliver smiled and covered her hand with his. "Exactly, so you have nothing to worry about."

She had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing to worry about. She repeated this to herself for the rest of the drive, the silent mantra calming her nerves minimally as Oliver drove the rest of the way to his house.

Or mansion. As they pulled up the winding driveway, she saw that mansion was a more apt word to call his childhood home. It was all columns and landscaping and actual stone gargoyles.

"Thea and I named them when we were little," Oliver said, gesturing toward the stone gargoyles. "The one on the left is Muffin and the one on the right is Snuffles."

"I'm guessing Thea had the final say on those names."

"You guessed right."

They stopped at the front door, Oliver turning toward her and resting his hands on her waist. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Just remember, you have absolutely nothing to worry about," he told her. "They are going to love you."

She nodded, covering his hands with hers. "Thank you. I-"

The door opened before she could finish, Moira Queen grinning wide at them.

"Well, look what I found," she said. "You do know, one typically rings the door bell when they are at the front door."

"Hello Mother," Oliver said, stepping forward and kissing his mother's cheek. "This is Felicity," he said, reaching back for her. "My girlfriend."

Moira fell silent as Robert and Thea walked into the foyer, Thea breezing right past her brother to give Felicity a tight hug.

"Oliver told me he did it, but I didn't totally believe him. But now you're here! And, welcome to the family! We're a little weird but our liquor is great."

"Not that you would know anything about that," Robert Queen said in a loud booming voice, giving his daughter's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He grinned at Felicity. "It's wonderful to meet you, Felicity."

"Oliver, dear, did you say girlfriend?" Moira asked in a small voice, hands clasped in front of her.

"Yes, I did," Oliver said.

Moira seemed without words for a moment, and then she walked toward Felicity, a wide grin spreading on her face as she pulled Felicity into a hug.

"Dear, it is so wonderful to meet you," she said.

Felicity blinked rapidly, thinking that all she had done was appear and already had a warmer welcome than she'd expected. At this rate she'd have her own stocking by the Christmas tree by the time she left.

"Whatever Rosa is cooking smells delicious," Oliver said.

"It's Cornish hens with string beans and double baked potatoes," Moira said, leading them toward the dining room. "I believe it's almost ready."

They sat down at the table, Robert at the head and then Oliver and Felicity on one side, Moira and Thea on the other. The wine glasses were already filled with something red, and Felicity gratefully took a sip.

"So, Felicity, what do you do? Oliver told us you were for Merlyn Global Group."

"Yes, I'm with their information technology department," Felicity said.

"Well, that's interesting," Moira said. "We are very fond of your family. They are wonderful people."

"I like them," Felicity said glibly. She was relieved when her comment was met with grins.

"So, how did you and Oliver meet?" Thea asked excitedly.

Felicity glanced at Oliver with a slight grin. He quickly began with, "Well, we –"

"He stole my cab," Felicity interjected with a bemused grin.

Moira gasped. "Oliver, that is very rude."

"I think whether or not I stole it is really up to interpretation," Oliver tried. "I think there were some misunderstandings."

"You stole my cab and you know it," she teased. "Anyway, Oliver ended up being my cousin Tommy's roommate. I'm really close with Tommy, so I was around Oliver a lot."

"And then you two fell in love," Thea finished with a dreamy grin.

Felicity glanced at Oliver. While he had told her he loved her that night he showed up at her apartment, she hadn't said it back yet. Part of it was nerves, the fear that once she said it she couldn't take it back. She'd said it so quickly with Nick that she told herself she would wait this time. She would make sure she really meant it.

"Yes," she murmured, reaching under the table and taking his hand. "We did."

She saw the surprise register on his face and then he squeezed her hand three times.

_I. Love. You._

 

* * *

 

After dinner Felicity was surprised to be included in decorating the family Christmas tree. She was touched that she was taking part in something so personal for the family. While most of the house was ornate and opulent, the tree was refreshingly simple. Some ornaments were the traditional glass, but others were ones Oliver and Thea made when they were little. There were felt wreaths and popsicle stick reindeers.

"That one's mine," Oliver told Felicity as she hung a popsicle stick reindeer on the tree. It was mostly colored green, save for a haphazard streak of red.

"It's beautiful," she told him with feigned sincerity. "You were quite the art prodigy."

"Did you make ornaments growing up?" Moira asked.

"No," she said. "I'm Jewish, actually."

The movement in the room stilled.

"Oh, dear, you should have told us!" Moira said. "Is this uncomfortable for you?"

"No," Felicity said immediately. "It's nice, actually. I've never done it before."

"Well, then, carry on," Moira said with a small laugh.

"Oh, now this is a beauty," Felicity said, holding the ornament she had just unwrapped up for Oliver to see. So many colors had been painted on the ornament that it had turned a sort of greenish-brown. On the bottom was painted in small letters – Oliver, 1985.

"That's some of my best work," Oliver said. "Do you see that color blending? Not everyone could get that exact hue of vomit brown."

She laughed, leaning against him. He slipped an arm around her waist and led her toward the part of the tree that faced the back wall. "Mom usually likes that one to go back here."

"Well, of course," she said, hanging it on the tree. "You don't want to make others feel inferior with your artistic prowess."

She went back to the boxes of ornaments and pulled one from the collection of wrapped bundles, carefully unwrapping it in her hand. She pulled out a small glass ornament with delicate snowflakes stamped on the glass. Inside there was a coil of garland.

"This is beautiful," she murmured, turning the ornament in her hand.

"That was my grandmother's," Moira said, walking over to her. "It was my favorite ornament growing up, and she would always make sure I was the one who hung it up on the tree."

"Oh, then – " Felicity held the ornament out toward Moira, but she shook her head.

"No, you hang it up. I've had many years to do it myself. I think it's time to pass on the tradition."

Felicity smiled softly, nodding and walking up toward the tree. She hung it front and center, moving a few pine needles around it so that it stood out. When she was finished she stepped back, admiring her handiwork.

"I think it looks nice there," Felicity said.

"I couldn't agree more."

Basking in the glow of the honor Moira had given her, she didn't notice the pine needle buckle under the weight of ornament. She did, however, watch the ornament drop to the ground, her mouth pulling into a grimace as the ornament shattered on the edge of the tree stand's base.

"Oh," Moira gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Met with the reality that she had just broken Moira Queen's most prized ornament, Felicity murmured, "Oh frak."

 

* * *

 

"I am so, so, sorry," Felicity said for the umpteenth time as she put on her coat, her and Oliver leaving the Queen house for the night.

"It's okay, dear," Moira said. "It was an accident."

"But it was your favorite ornament," Felicity continued. "It was your grandmother's. I feel awful."

"You shouldn't," Moira held. "It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. Don't worry yourself over it any longer."

Felicity nodded grudgingly. "Okay. Thank you for having me tonight. The entire evening was lovely."

"I'm so happy you enjoyed yourself," Moira said. "It was wonderful meeting you. I look forward to many more such meetings."

Felicity nodded. "Me too."

Oliver and her said the rest of their farewells, and then they were waving goodbye from the car as Oliver pulled out onto the street.

"I can't believe I broke a family heirloom," Felicity said.

"If it makes you feel better I accidentally threw a football through a real Degas when I was little. It was worth over a million dollars. That ornament is probably worth five."

"No, Oliver, that ornament was priceless," Felicity said glumly. " But, thank you. Your story does make me feel a little better."

Oliver grinned. "So, about tonight. You said something during dinner."

"I did," she asked leadingly, knowing exactly what he was alluding to.

"About us falling in love," Oliver said. "I was just wondering, can you elaborate on that?"

"How so?" she returned teasingly.

"Felicity."

"I love you," she said, turning toward him in the car. "I probably should have said it before, but I wanted to be sure."

"And you are now?"

She nodded. "I'm more sure than I've ever been. I love you, Oliver. Even if you did steal my cab. Which, for the record, is a really shitty thing to do."

"What ever happened to that whole we don't talk about that thing?" he asked.

"We're in a relationship now, Oliver. We can't have things off-limits."

"Oh, of course."

"But, you know, I'm really glad you stole that cab from me," she said.

"Because we wouldn't have met otherwise?" Oliver asked. "You do realize I still live with your cousin, stealing cabs or not."

"Oh, I know," she said. "I'm glad you stole it because now I know about your secret stealing cabs ability. And while I normally do not approve, if the need happened to arise…"

Oliver laughed. "How would that need arise?"

"You know, I think we'll know it when we see it."

He took her hand, threading his fingers with his. "I love you so much."

Thinking of their dinner, she grinned and squeezed his hand three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! For everyone else - happy Thursday :D Sorry I got behind on posting yesterday. I got hit with a bit of the flu and then we were out for Christmas Eve. We've got one more chapter to go after this and then you're all caught up!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all caught up on this site now for new chapters! Next one will be up probably sometime next week. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen

In the increasingly domestic life that Felicity and Oliver came to share, Saturday mornings slowly became Felicity's favorite part of her week. Her and Oliver always went grocery shopping, him pushing the cart and Felicity manning the list as they both shopped for the week. They'd practically started living at each other's apartments a few days of the week, so both stocked the other's favorite in the pantry. Blueberry waffles for her at his and Tommy's apartment. Hazelnut creamer for him at her apartment.

They turned down an aisle and nearly ran right into a large cart with a makeshift car at the front. It was one of the grocery issued carts for shoppers with children, and a small boy who looked to be about four grinned up at them from the little car and roared, "Beep beep!"

"I'm sorry," Oliver directed to the mother, backing up.

"Oh, it's okay," she said. At the front of the cart the little boy continued to loudly beep at Oliver and Felicity. The mother leaned forward and said, "Brian, stop that."

She wheeled the cart out of the aisle and as Felicity and Oliver continued on to the aisle, they could still hear the little boy beeping and his mother's ineffectual admonishments.

"Kids get the coolest things," Felicity mused. "I wish I got to ride in a stroller with a car on the end."

Oliver grinned. "You know, you could have grabbed one. There were a few when we got here."

"Yeah, but then the grocery moms would have given me looks," Felicity told him with a raise eyebrow.

"Grocery moms sound so judgmental," he teased.

"They are," she agreed with a succinct nod. "And I cannot wait to be one of them. It's like – you earn that judginess."

Oliver laughed. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." They were quiet for a moment as they continued down the aisle. Felicity smiled to herself as a memory tickled her mind and said, "I remember when I was little girl going grocery shopping with my mom. It was my favorite thing, going and seeing all the food. My mom would always let me pick out on treat. Cookies. Chips. Whatever I wanted, but I only got one."

"Let me guess, you only picked cookies," Oliver said.

She grinned, knocking her shoulder against his. "Usually. But I liked having the option."

"Of course you did."

He could just imagine a six or seven year old Felicity poring over all of her options with stout determination.

"Anyway, I can't wait to take my own kids food shopping," she said, voice turning nostalgic. "Let them buy their own special treat like my mom did for me. What about you? What's something special you did when you were a kid?"

"Um, I got to watch Rosa polish the silver?"

Felicity snorted. "Come on. There has to be something that you did that you remember. What about holidays? Birthdays?"

They stopped by some cereal and Oliver shrugged, reaching out to grab a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. He put it in the cart and then glanced over at Felicity, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" she pressed.

"On my fifth birthday I got my first share of stock in my family's business," he told her sarcastically. "It was a big moment."

"Your parents are not this bad," she deadpanned. "I met them, remember?"

He shrugged again. "We weren't one of those families. My dad was hardly ever home because he was working so much. My mom was always off at some charity thing. It really was just Thea and I."

Something in that struck Felicity as really sad. She had such fond memories of her childhood, she couldn't imagine literally having none. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be different," she said offhandedly, turning her attention to the display of oatmeal.

"What?"

She picked up a box with an assortment of flavored packets and threw them into the cart.

"You know, when you have children," she explained. "You'll be different."

They continued down the aisle, and Oliver casually said, "I don't really know if I want to have kids. I've never been a huge kid person, and they've never really liked me too much."

"Yeah, but it's different when you have your own."

He nodded. "Maybe. I just don't think its for me."

She stared at him, and when she realized she was staring quickly looked away, blinking rapidly as she processed what he'd just told her. It shouldn't matter. They'd only been dating for a few months. Any potential children were far in the future – as was that particular talk – but somehow Felicity couldn't shake the feeling that it did matter. How could it not?

"Do we want hot chocolate?" Oliver asked, holding up a box of Swiss Miss. "I think you're out."

Felicity swallowed hard, nodding. He dropped it in the cart and they went on grocery shopping, both of them pretending nothing had happened, but knowing just how untrue that was.

* * *

 

The next week it was as if there was a sort of cordial impasse between Felicity and Oliver. They still did everything they did before. They went on dates. They stayed at each other's apartment. For all intents and purposes, nothing had changed, except for the tiny, plush elephant in the room.

"You told her you don't want children?" Tommy said in surprise, after hearing Oliver's concerns about what had been happening between him and Felicity since the grocery incident.

"Yeah," Oliver said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He didn't like the look on Tommy's face, which had gone from mild outrage to pity.

"Oh buddy, that was a mistake," Tommy told him, shaking his head. "Felicity's wanted to be a mom for about as long as I can remember. I think she came out of the womb that way."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

"You weren't," Tommy told him placatingly. "But, dude, you should have seen this coming when she was talking about what she would do with her future child. Non-maternal women don't talk about that shit."

Oliver sighed. "I wanted to be honest."

"There's a place for honesty, and then there's a place for little white lies. That was definitely a place for a white lie. I mean, you guys have only been dating for a few months –"

"Exactly!" Oliver interjected. "We've only been dating for a few months! That's why I thought it was harmless when she brought it up. It was just us talking. But then when I said I didn't want kids, it was like I told her that her favorite holiday didn't really exist."

"Yeah, you kind of did. It's called Mother's Day."

Oliver groaned, standing up and beginning to pace. How did things get messed up so quickly? Things were good between him and Felicity. They were great, even.

"I didn't want to lie to her," he said, repeating the same thing he kept repeating to himself over the past few weeks. "Isn't it better to be honest?"

"Well, sure. Sometimes. But, when being honest means dropping the fact that you don't want kids on her in the middle of a grocery store…" he trailed off with a significant look.

"I can see your point," Oliver relented. "But, I did not _drop_ it on her. I just, you know, gently mentioned it."

"In a grocery store. You can't get out of this one, Oliver. You messed up."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't really want kids, and I don't see that changing. With my childhood-" "Okay, you need to stop it with all this woe is me bullshit with your childhood," Tommy said. "At least your parents like you."

"Your dad likes you."

"He tolerates me," Tommy corrected. "And, really, Robert and Moira are not that bad. I'd gladly let them adopt me."

Oliver smirked. "I'll let them know. See if they're interested in taking a billionaire's wayward son under their wing."

"I'm just saying, Felicity has a point," Tommy said. "Your childhood does not define how you will be as a parent. And not liking other people's annoying children doesn't mean you wouldn't like your own annoying one."

"I can see your stance on children."

"Hey, I might not be the most paternal person on this planet, but I would love the crap out of one of my own," Tommy said. "Imagine a kid with my looks and wit. Who wouldn't love him?"

Oliver laughed.

"You have a right to not want kids," Tommy said. "But don't totally write it off. Because, if it means anything, I think you'd be a baller dad." Oliver gave him a look. "Really, man. I see how you are with Thea. You'd be an amazing dad."

"Thanks, Tommy."

"And, for the love of God, don't let her entrap you in any more of these relationship conversations," Tommy said. "It cannot lead to anything good. Ever."

 

* * *

 

The next day it was Sunday, and Oliver met his parents and Thea at their childhood home for their usual weekly dinner. Sitting around the dining room table, passing rolls and wine, he asked his family, "Was there anything special we used to do when Thea and I were little?"

Moira's hand stilled over the bread basket. "Well, dear, what do you mean?"

"Did we have any traditions? Things that only our family did?"

Moira and Robert exchanged a look.

"Well, I don't know," Moira said slowly. "I supposed we had some. Why do you ask?"

"Felicity was telling me about her and her mom. They used to go grocery shopping together, and her mom would let her pick something special to buy." He was met with blank stares. "I don't know, it was just a little tradition they had. Whatever, it's stupid. Let's just eat."

"No, I think that's nice," Robert said. "Memories are a wonderful thing."

"She asked me if I had any little traditions, and I couldn't think of any," Oliver said.

The table fell silent, no doubt the three, besides Oliver, taking a trip to their past, trying to discover whatever this hidden tradition was. Oliver had travelled back there often enough after his incident with Felicity, that he didn't feel an additional trip necessary.

"Robert, what about your toy soldiers?" Moira said suddenly.

Oliver's father looked at her in confusion for a moment, and then his eyes lit with recognition.

"I had forgotten all about that!" Richard said, laughing. "The toy soldiers!"

"What about them?" Oliver asked, looking from his one parent to the other.

"Well, dear, you probably don't remember this but you had a lot of trouble sleeping when you were a little boy," Moira began. "You had nightmares, and you always were convinced there was someone watching you."

"You'd scream bloody murder," Robert told him. "Of course, your mother and I would come running, and you'd tell us there was someone at your door, or in your closet, or under your bed – "

"If there was a space, you were convinced some alien was in it," Moira sad indulgently.

"Anyway, after a few weeks of this your mother and I were so exhausted, we knew we had to do something. So, I found these old toy soldiers that were passed down to me from my father –"

"The ones in your office," Oliver filled in, thinking of the row of soldiers lined up on his father's fireplace. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd snuck in there as a kid to play with them.

Robert nodded. "Yes, those. I lined them up outside your room that night, and told you that they were your army, and they were there to protect you. That was the first night in weeks – "

"Months," Moira interjected with a sigh.

Robert laughed. "Weeks, months, either way it was the first time in a long while that you slept through the night. After that, we'd set up your army every night before you went to sleep."

"I don't remember it," Oliver said, wishing he did.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Robert said. "You were two, maybe three. But we did it for a good year, until you could fall asleep on your own."

He thought about what it must have been like back then, sitting with his father outside of his bedroom setting up his toy army. From what he could remember Robert was always away for business. It was only recently that he'd cut back, and they'd started doing these family dinners, a paltry attempt he'd always thought to make up for a remiss upbringing, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was a time when he was there. When there were traditions and special moments. If he was wrong about that, what else was he wrong about?

"What about me?" Thea asked.

"Oh, you were a champion sleeper," Moira told her with a grin. "I swear, you could sleep through a bombing."

"I mean a tradition," Thea spelled out slowly. "Ollie got one, now where's mine?"

"Let's see," Robert said. "Perhaps how your mother and I heard you sneak out of the house nearly every weekend when you started high school."

Thea's eyes grew wide. "You knew?"

"Dear, your ride would honk," Moira said.

"And you let me sneak off? You're not getting the parents of the year award."

"We knew better than to try to control you," Robert said casually. "So, we just hired an undercover security detail to follow you."

There was a beat of silence and then Thea screeched, "You what?"

* * *

 

Despite Felicity nearly living at Tommy's apartment for a good half of the week, they still tried to meet once in a while outside of the apartment for coffee or lunch. He told her that it was to air himself out, so to speak, but she thought it was really because he felt that he couldn't compete with Oliver when they were in the same room. Granted, he was partially right. If it came down to her boyfriend and her cousin, the boyfriend would probably win. Few things were thicker than blood, but Oliver was pretty close.

Either way, she liked their little outings. He took her to places she didn't know in the city, and always knew the perfect things to order. They were at a hole in the wall café this time, with one of those menus that was largely word of mouth. The place itself looked like a Bohemian yard sale. Beneath the high wooden ceilings was a mish mosh of furniture that seemed to match purely due to the deliberate _non -_ matching. They were seated on a leather loveseat with bright orange brocade accent pillows.

Tommy casually set down his half-caff redeye and said, "I heard you and Oliver started the baby talk. If he were any lesser of a man, he'd be halfway to Tibet by now."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Very funny. And we didn't start anything. It was a simple conversation. That's all."

"That's not all. And you know it."

No, it wasn't. But she wasn't about to tell Tommy that. Things seemed to be marginally more comfortable between her and Oliver. He'd told her that maybe he was a bit rash in saying he didn't want children, but that it was something he couldn't see for himself right now. She'd nodded, telling him she understood, and she did. She knew exactly what it was – a way to table the conversation, a band aid over the tear in their relationship that neither of them knew where to begin repairing.

It was such a small thing, but then it wasn't. She told herself that she was being ridiculous letting it affect her so much. Who cares if he didn't want children? That could change – he'd said so himself – and even if it didn't, did she really need to have children? She loved him, and if she continued loving him and loving their life together, wouldn't that be enough? Still, there was a part of her that envisioned herself pushing a cart down a grocery aisle, a small blond girl riding up front with bright blue eyes.

"It's not the end of the world, you know," Tommy said, pulling her from her thoughts. "What he said. It doesn't mean that's how he'll always feel."

Felicity smiled sardonically. "That's what he told me."

"See, you have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know," she said uncertainly, wrapping her hand tightly around her mug of tea. "Things were going so well. But then this, I don't know. It's making me think. And not in a good way. I mean, if we want such different things – "

"It's not that different," Tommy tried ineffectually to argue.

She gave him a look and said, "Wanting and not wanting children is a pretty fundamental difference, Tommy."

"I think you're overreacting," Tommy held. "You two are nowhere near having kids, so why worry about it? Just enjoy what you have."

She knew Tommy was right that her and Oliver were nowhere near having children, or even really entertaining the thought. They weren't even living together yet, and maybe he was right that she should just enjoy what they had now. It wasn't bad. They worked together, and loved each other. People would give their lives for what they had, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling in her chest. It was there when she left, and when her and Oliver met up later that day when he returned from his dinner with his parents. It was there when they made love, and when she laid in his arms afterwards, the sound of his heartbeat against her ear as familiar as her own.

"I love you," he murmured above her head, his hand smoothing the blanket down along her hip. "You know that, right?"

She tilted her face up to his and smiled softly. "I do."

"I feel like things have been weird between us ever since…"

He trailed off and she said, "Grocery-gate."

Despite the seriousness of what they were discussing, that made him crack a smile.

"Grocery-gate?" he asked carefully. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"It's what I've been calling it in my head," she returned.

"I wish it never happened," he said. "I wish I never said what I said, because, I love you, and if that's something you really want, I could do it."

She pulled away from him, tugging the blanket up higher on her small frame.

"It's not something I want you to just _do_. Why are we even talking about this anymore? It's-it's fine. We're years away from any of that, and who's to say it will even be me and you, and-"

"That's the thing," he interrupted. "I think it will be you. I want it to be you. Because you're the only person I've felt this way with. You're the only person who's challenged me and made me think, and think differently."

"I don't want you to change fundamental beliefs for me," Felicity said. "If you don't want kids, that's fine. You can feel that way, and you should. If that's what you really want. But I don't want you to think that you have to –"

He cut her off, covering her mouth with his. She knew this wasn't a time to get sidetracked by passion, but his tongue ran along her bottom lip and she was on top of him without really thinking, running her hands along the planes of his body that she knew so well she could probably map them from memory. The logical part of her brain kept nudging, telling her that there was more to discuss and losing herself in his body was not the right way to have this discussion, but thankfully she didn't have to listen to that part of her brain, because Oliver made the decision for them. He took a hold of her waist and sat up, bringing her with him. She leaned in to kiss him again but he pulled back, reaching up and taking a hold of her face.

"If you were trying to distract me it was working," she said with a small smile. She leaned in again, her lips just brushing his. "Don't stop now."

"I don't want to distract you," he said, smoothing her hair away from her face. He took a deep breath and then told her, "I want to tell you that I have a tradition."

She settled back a bit on his lap, surprised by what he just said. "What?"

"Like you and your mom had. I have one."

"But I thought – "

"I asked my parents tonight at dinner if we had any," he said. "It turns out we did."

He told her then about the toy soldiers, and how him and his dad would arrange them each night before he went to bed.

"I don't really remember it," he said. "But I can see it. My dad and I lining them up in front of my door. It's something that I…" he trailed off swallowing hard, "…I could see doing with my own son."

Felicity smiled softly, tears filling her eyes. "Really?"

He nodded. "I never could see it before. But I can now. I can see it."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying this, right? You're not just saying it because of before?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm saying it because I want to have a baby with you one day, Felicity Smoak. And I want you to line up little toy soldiers outside its room with me."

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into the nook of his neck. Against his skin she murmured, "I want that, too. I really, really want that."

They stayed that way for a while, wrapped up in each other and quietly reveling in them finally getting past the roadblock that had stopped them in their tracks for a good while. Against his shoulder she mumbled, "But…you do realize those toy soldiers are a major tripping hazard, right?"

"What do you mean? They're tiny. No one could trip over them."

"Kids have tiny feet. They could trip over them. Or step on them."

"Are you trying to ruin my one tradition?" he asked glibly.

She grinned, realizing that the tradition didn't really matter. What did was that they were going to have one. Together.

"No, it's perfect," she told him resolutely, smiling. "And I'd be the luckiest girl in the world to do it with you. Just, you know, we wouldn't put any soldiers _directly_ in front of the door."

"I guess that's fine," Oliver said.

She grinned, kissing him lightly. "Look at us, already compromising. If we ever do have kids, we're going to be so good at it."

If any other woman had told him this, he might not have believed her. If any other woman had told him this, me might have even been freaked out. But it was Felicity, and he thought to himself that she couldn't be more right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

          Chapter Fifteen

Every year, Felicity counted down the days until the annual Bakingdom Tent Sale. It was an absolute cornucopia for bakers where you could leave with bundt cake pans, fondant sets, cookie trays, and just about anything else you could dream up for a kitchen at deliciously slashed prices.  It happened nationwide at all of the Bakingdom factory locations, bakers and cooks alike shaking with anticipation at the thought of discounted bakeware and half price mixers.

When Felicity decided to move to Starling City, the first thing she did after researching apartments was to Google where she could find the nearest Bakingdom factory.  At the end of her Google search, she was delighted to find that there was one about four hours outside of Starling.  Immediately, she’d marked down the date of the annual Sale.

“I can’t believe you still go to that,” Tommy said.  “Don’t you have enough cookie sheets?”

“They have more than cookie sheets,” Felicity said, rolling her eyes.  “They have donut pans, and silpats, and seriously reduced merengue powder.  That stuff is not cheap, let me tell you.”

“It’s like she’s speaking another language,” Tommy said to Oliver.  The three of them were seated in Tommy and Oliver’s apartment, a half-eaten pizza spread out in front of them on the coffee table. It was mostly pepperoni for the boys, with a quarter of black olive for Felicity.

“I understood donut pans,” Oliver mused.

Tommy nodded. “Good point. Felicity, get the donut pan and make us donuts.”

She smirked. “I already have one of those.”

Tommy gave her an incredulous look.  “Then where the hell have the donuts been?”

“I don’t buy pans solely for the purpose of cooking you guys food,” she spelled out. “And, for the record, I bring you guys a shit ton of cookies, so you have no room to complain.”

“Those bacon peanut butter ones were pretty good,” Oliver said nostalgically.   He turned his head toward Tommy and added, “I was there when she was making them – the batter was ridiculous.”

“I wish Sara baked,” Tommy said.  “Although, she has other redeeming qualities.”

He waggled his eyebrows and Felicity wrinkled her nose.  “Gross, I’m telling her you said that and you won’t see those redeeming qualities for weeks.”

“I think she’d appreciate me being appreciative.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it’s going to be amazing. I heard it’s even bigger out here than the one by Cambridge.”

“So, do they really just have these happening all over the country?”  Oliver said. 

Felicity nodded, reaching forward and grabbing another piece of pizza.  There was only pepperoni left, and she picked off the pepperoni as she explained, “There are ten factories, I think.  All across the country.  And they always have a big tent sale after the new year to clean out their old inventory.  It’s basically heaven for bakers.”

“I’ll go with you,” Oliver said, reaching over and picking up one of her discarded pepperoni slices. “When is it again?”

“Really?” Felicity said with a surprised grin. “I tried to get Nick to go with me for four years and it never happened.”

“That’s because I’m better than Nick,” Oliver returned easily, licking grease off of his thumb. Felicity grinned, leaning toward him and kissing his cheek.

“Yes. Yes, you are.  And it’s Saturday.  We’ll need to leave early.”

“Wait, if you’re going I want to go,” Tommy said suddenly.  Felicity smirked, looping her arm around Oliver’s, and asked, “Feeling left out, Tommy?”

“You said this place is about four hours from here, right?  That sounds like a road trip.  And no road trip is complete without Tommy Merlyn.”

“Is that a thing?” Felicity asked, laughing.

“It is, actually,” Oliver chimed in.  “We went on a few during college.  Tommy is a road trip champion.”

“I am,” Tommy agreed. “I have a knack for finding the best places to eat.”

“And the motels where you’re mostly likely to be murdered,” Oliver added.

Felicity gave him a strange look.  “That sounds awful.   Besides, I figured we’d just drive up and back in one day.”

“Oh no, we’re staying somewhere,” Tommy said decisively.  “Don’t worry, leave all the planning up to me.”

“That makes me extremely uncomfortable.”

Tommy grinned, folding his hands behind his head.  “This is going to be a great road trip.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Saturday morning came quickly and Felicity haphazardly packed, making sure to pack some extra bags for anything she might find at the tent sale. One of the sale’s little quirks was that it didn’t have any bags, and she’d seen many a shopper thwarted by inadequate carrying accouterments.  She, herself, had fallen prey to that her first year when she only brought one small carrier.  She almost had to leave the set of glass mixing bowls behind, until a good-doer offered to help her to her car.

            She sat on the edge of her couch, checking her watch.  Oliver and Tommy were late.   She’d built in some cushion room, anticipating they would be late and traffic was always unpredictable, but she still felt herself growing tense as she waited.  There were special holiday edition cake stands at stake.  Did they not understand that?

            A knock sounded on her door and she jumped up from the couch, hurrying over to the door.  Tommy walked in leisurely, asking as he passed, “Can I use your bathroom?  My coffee is knocking.”

            “Fine, just go fast,” she said, already dragging her stuff toward the door. She put her keys on the endtable and said, “Lock up when you’re done.  And don’t forget to flush!”

            “When have I ever forgotten that,” he called out as he closed the bathroom door. Grimacing, Felicity murmured to herself, “How about every single time you are here.”

            She walked down the stairs and went outside, grinning despite her irritation at being late when she saw Oliver.  He was leaning casually against Tommy’s black sedan, looking straight out of a fashion magazine with his pea coat and Ray Bans.

            She snaked her arms around his waist, leaning in and giving him a lingering kiss. When he leaned in for more she pulled away and said, “No time for that.  We have a road to get on, no?”

            “We have to wait for Tommy,” he reminded her, nuzzling her neck. She laughed, her eyes drifting shut. When they opened a moment later, she yelped at the eyes watching them from the backseat.

            “Oh my God,” Felicity breathed out, hand flying to her chest. She glared at Oliver, swatting him with the edge of her scarf.  “Why did you not tell me Sara was in the backseat?”

            Oliver shrugged.  “Didn’t really seem important.”

            Felicity rolled her eyes as Sara propped open the door and said, “Don’t let me stop you guys.”

            “Scoot over,” Felicity said, opening the door wider.  Sara unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted over to the other seat, leaving room for Felicity to sit.  Felicity ducked into the car and asked Oliver, “Would you run up and tell Tommy to hurry up.  He’s probably just sitting there reading all my back issues of In Style.”

            Oliver smirked.  “I’ll be right back.”

            Felicity slammed the door shut, reaching over to buckle her seatbelt. Sara was looking at her with this sort of bemused look on her face, and when Felicity asked her what it was, Sara shook her head and told her, “Nothing, it’s just, you guys are cuter than I thought you’d be.”

            “Thanks?”

            “When I heard you two were dating I thought it would be a short thing. Because of Oliver, you know. But he’s really in it. I can tell.”

            “We both are,” Felicity said a bit self-consciously, reaching up and adjusting her glasses.  She liked Sara, but there was something about her that always put her slightly on edge. It was the way Sara held herself, like she knew something Felicity didn’t but should.

            “I guess I shouldn’t be one to speak,” Sara said, examining her nails lazily. “I’m dating the larger manwhore of the two.”

            Felicity laughed in surprise.  “I didn’t really know Oliver before this, but I can speak to Tommy’s less than discerning track record with women.”

            Sara smiled wickedly.  “I bet you can. I expect stories later.”

            “I’ll think up the really good ones.”  She paused and added, “But he’s really in it, too.  The whole thing with you, I mean.  I’ve never seen him like this.  It’s nice.”

            “Look at us, taming the untameable,”  Sara said wistfully.  “They’ll write books about us.”

            Felicity grinned and then spotted the boys finally coming out of her apartment. They walked to the car, Tommy taking the driver’s seat and Oliver the passenger.  Tommy adjusted his mirror, glancing at Felicity in the reflection, and asked, “So, where are we going again?”

            “I thought you said you were going to mapquest it,” Felicity said. “I gave you the address last night.”

            “Who mapquests things anymore?”  Tommy said off-handedly.  “Just give us the address and Oliver will look it up on his phone.”

            Felicity frowned, reaching into her purse and pulling out her phone. Who mapquested things anymore? She did.  She liked the routine of finding the perfect route and then neatly handwriting the directions on a piece of stationary. The time it took to write it out helped the direction sink in, and she could visualize the route.

            She found the address and read it off for them.  Oliver plugged it into his phone.

            “Okay, there are three different routes,” he said. “Which one do we want?”

            Tommy glanced over at the screen and said, “Bangers Drive? Oh, we are so taking that one.”

            “You can’t pick a route just because you like a road name,” Felicity said through gritted teeth, reaching forward and plucking the phone from Oliver.  “And of course you chose the one with the farthest estimated time of arrival.”  She clicked on the first route, with a speedy three hours and forty seven minutes, and handed the phone back to Oliver.

            “Take that one.”

            “You’re no fun,” Tommy said, pulling away from the curb.

            “I’m a lot of fun,” Felicity returned, finding herself unreasonably piqued by the comment.

            “You wouldn’t let me take Bangers Drive.  That’s cruel.”

            “Need I remind you that you invited yourself on this trip?”

            “Sara, do you see how she treats me?  It’s like we’re not even related.  It’s like we don’t share the same blood in our Merlyn veins.”

            Oliver snorted.  “Merlyn veins? Do you guys have a little TM stamped on them?”

            “No,” Tommy said thoughtfully.  “But, if Malcolm could find a way to do that he totally would.”

 

* * *

 

 

            An hour in Tommy asked Oliver to look up on Apple maps if there were any good restaurants coming up.  The minute Oliver read the name Choo Choo Johnny’s, Tommy was sold.  He didn’t even ask the other members of the road trip for their opinion, assuring them, “This is going to be good.  I know it.”

            “How do you know it?”  Sara called from the back seat.  “You only heard about it a few seconds ago.”

            “I have a feeling,” Tommy returned in a low voice.  “And my road trip feelings never lie.”

            “Except for Spring Break 2011.”

            Tommy nodded solemnly.   “Except for Spring Break 2011.”

            Sara and Felicity exchanged a look. 

            “What happened Spring Break 2011?”  Felicity finally asked.

            “Tommy ate a six pound steak to get his picture on a wall and ended up puking all over my BMW 7 series,” Oliver said in a detached voice.

            “It took me a good month to be able to look at beef again,” Tommy intoned.

            Oliver added, “It took me a good month to be able to drive that car again.”

            Choo Choo Johnny’s ended up to be a burger joint geared toward train enthusiasts and small children.  Miniature train tracks snaked through the entire restaurant, trains of all different sizes and designs gliding past with a measured _chtick chtick chtick_.  All of the booths were designed like actual train cars, while a few traditional tables were interspersed between the circle of booths.  One track in particular ran along the edges of the booth, and the group watched a small train bring one of the booths its food.

            “This is the coolest place ever,” Tommy breathed out.

            Felicity laughed, glancing around the restaurant more.  At the back there was a small arcade, complete with pinball, PacMan, and one of those tall claw games filled with stuffed animals that no one ever caught.

            “Will you get me a stuffed animal after we eat?”  Felicity teased, looping her arm around Oliver’s and nodding toward the claw game.

            “It would be my honor,” he returned, kissing the top of her head.

            A young man dressed in a train conductor’s uniform walked over to them. He looked to be around eighteen or nineteen, and completely over his job.  In a toneless voice he droned, “Welcome to Choo Choo Johnny’s, where the fun train never stops.  Would you like a booth or table?”

            “Do you even have to ask?”  Tommy returned with a wide grin.

            The boy blinked.  “I do, actually. It’s restaurant policy.”

            “Oh, um, a booth then,” Tommy said.  He looked at the rest of the party and said, “A booth, right?”

            They all nodded in agreement, and the boy grabbed four menus from the host stand and led them over to a booth.  They slid in, Tommy running his hand along the back of the seat as he slid in.

            “This place is officially the coolest place I have ever been to,” he enthused. A train whizzed back and he said, “Do you sell any of these?”

            “Our shop is next store,” the boy droned.  “Your waitress will be with you shortly.  Thank you for choosing Choo Choo Johnny’s.”

            He did a little train noise and made a lazy whistle motion with his arm. He turned away immediately, shuffling back to the host stand.

            “That guy seems to really hate his life,” Sara noted.

            “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.  I’d kill to work here,” Tommy said.

            “Hey, I think I saw a sign that they were hiring,” Oliver returned with a grin. “You know, I’m fine running Verdant on my own.  This may be your true calling, Tommy.”

            “Are you actually going to buy something?”  Felicity asked.  “Because, you’re twenty eight.  You’re too old for toys.”

            “Sure, but you’re never too old for toy _trains_. Remember when we were kids and Grandpa would put one up all around the living room at Christmas?”

            Felicity nodded.  “Yeah, I remember always stepping on it.  Those little tracks hurt like a bitch.”

            The waitress came up to their table, wearing a similar but less elaborate train conductor costume than the host.  What she lacked for in detailed costume she made up for with cheeriness. It was a stark difference to the unimpressed host.

            “Welcome to Choo Choo Johnny’s, where the fun train never stops! I’m Candace, and I’ll be your waitress this fine afternoon.  Is this your first time at Choo Choo Johnny’s?”

            “Yes, it is,” Oliver said.

            She practically beamed.

            “Well, then you all are in for quite the treat!  You picked the right table.  This booth – like all the others – has your food delivered on….can anyone guess?”

            She looked around the table expectantly and Felicity said, “Um, a train?”

            The waitress clapped her hands together and trilled, “That’s right! Your food comes on a miniature train that will roll up right there.”  She pointed her pen at the bit of track beside their table.  “I bring your drinks, though.  We’ve had some incidents with spilled soft drinks, and you know what that means.”

            She was met by four blank stares.

            “Sticky tracks!  And no one wants sticky tracks!”

            “No, of course not,” Oliver said, giving Felicity a look. She had to fake a cough into her elbow.

            “Now, what can I get you all to drink?  I highly recommend our root beer.  It’s house made and pretty darn delicious, if you ask me.”

            “I’ll have that,” Oliver said.

            “A coke for me,” Tommy said, and Sara asked for the same.  Felicity ordered a coffee, knowing the importance of being properly caffeinated before stepping into the Bakingdom Annual Tent Sale.  

            “Alrighty.   You guys peruse those menus, and I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

            She hurried off to the back and Oliver said, “I didn’t know it was possible to be that perky.”

            “She has to be on something,” Sara said.  “I’m guessing some uppers.”

            “Oh come on, she’s not on anything,” Tommy said.  “She’s just happy.  Maybe you all have forgotten what that looks like.”

            Sara gave him a look and said, “No.  She’s definitely on something.  Did you see her talking about those trains?  She was tweaking like a cocaine addict after a hit.”

            “It’s called passion, Sara,” Tommy drawled.  She continued to give him the same look from before and he grabbed a menu and put it in front of her.  “Just read the menu.”

            “Will you share an order of onion rings with me?”  Felicity asked Oliver.  “I never can finish one myself.”

            “Yeah, sure.”

            “Oh, and tater tots.  It’s been too long since I’ve had a good tater tot.  Oh! And look, they have fried mushrooms! Maybe we can get one of those for the table?”

            Oliver smirked.  “I like how you can’t finish an order of onion rings, but you also want tater tots and fried mushrooms.”

            “I like a variety,” she returned easily.  “But we can nix the onion rings if you think it’s too much food.”

            “Oh no, we are definitely getting the onion rings,” he said. “And the tater tots and fried mushrooms.  Go big or go home, right?”

            “Get a large tater tot,” Sara said.  “Those sound so good right now.”

            “You do realize the burgers come with French fries?”  Tommy pointed out.

            Felicity shrugged and said, “So?”

            “Okay, just checking.  So, who exactly will roll us out to our car after we eat this ridiculous amount of food?”

            “I’m sure our waitress would be more than willing.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The table was almost completely silent, save for Tommy who had leaned forward and was quietly chanting, “Come on.  That’s it.  Just a few inches more. Come on.  You can do it.”

            “Is the train car supposed to carry that much food?”  Sara asked, leaning on Tommy’s arm as she watched the train make its agonizingly slow approach.  “Maybe they put too much food on it.”

            “I think they know not to put too much food on it,” Tommy said. “Oh, it’s almost here. Just a little closer.”

            It pulled to slow stop in front of the table, the tray aboard the train filled with so many baskets that it was difficult to actually pick them up. Oliver dug his hand in and then started handing out the baskets.  Felicity got her veggie burger, Oliver his bacon cheese burger, Tommy his Western burger, and finally Sara her Hawaiian burger with extra pineapple. Piled between them was the baskets of sides, which had grown to include mini corn dogs, jalapeno poppers, and these little fried cheese curds.

            “When I die…” Tommy said between bites, “…I want to have everyone come here after my funeral…” another bite, “…but instead of food on the train…” another bite, “…you can have little framed pictures of me.”

            Felicity wrinkled her nose.  “That is both cute and mildly disturbing.”

            “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Four full stomachs and one stuffed animal later – which Oliver won for Felicity after an impressive four tries – the group was back on the road. While Tommy drove over the speed limit and changed lanes several times without using a signal, Felicity really couldn’t complain.  With their current pace, they were set to be there a good twenty minutes before it started. That would give them time to get in line and set up a game plan.

            When they pulled into the parking lot it was already packed, women clutching their bags lining up outside the tent.  Tommy parked on a field next to the actual parking lot where people had started parking when the actual lot ran out of spots.

            “This is crazy,” he breathed out, following Felicity and Oliver with Sara trailing a bit behind him.  “You guys are all here to get cookie sheets and shit?”

            “I keep telling you, it’s more than that,” Felicity tossed over her shoulder.

            They got in line, and she glanced over the shoulder of the person in front of her. She must have gone years prior, and had a makeshift map with a bunch of x’s on it. Oliver followed Felicity’s gaze and his mouth dropped open.  He leaned in and whispered, “Is that a map?”

            Felicity nodded.  “I used to make ones like that for the sale near Cambridge.  The optimal way to do this is to track your foot movement.  It makes for more efficient shopping.”

            Oliver stared at her.  “You guys take this way too seriously.”

            “How long do we have to stand out here?” Tommy asked.

            Felicity glanced at her watch.  “About twenty minutes.”

            “Twenty minutes?”  Tommy said incredulously. “It’s like ten degrees out here.”

            “Oh, hold on,” Felicity said.  She reached into her bag and pulled out some portable hand warmers she’d picked up at the store.  She handed them to the three and said, “Break them in the middle and then hold them in your hands.”

            “You are really hard core about this,” Sara noted, breaking the hand warmer in the middle like Felicity instructed and clutching one in each hand. “I’m sort of impressed.”

            “Okay, so there are three things I’m looking for today,” Felicity said. “Everything else falls to the wayside for these three things, okay?”

            “What are they?” Tommy asked.

            “First, there is the C-3PO pan,” she said.  “They’re coming out with a new Star Wars line in May, so the old line should be here today.  Second, their 100 piece cookie cutter collection.  And finally, this is the big one, the Bakingdom Chocolate Pro Fountain.”

            “You’re buying a chocolate fountain?”  Tommy said in disbelief.  “We are so hanging at your apartment more after this.”

            “It’s the Lamborghini of chocolate fountains,” Felicity enthused. “It holds four pounds of chocolate and has three adjustable settings for speed and heat.”

            Tommy held up a hand and said, “You had me at chocolate, Felicity. We’ll get that fountain for you. I don’t care how many old ladies and soccer moms I have to knock down.”

            Twenty minutes later the doors opened and chaos ensued. There was no frenzy like women around half priced kitchen accessories.  Hands were everywhere and elbows were flying.  Two women fought over a set of checkered dish towels while another woman dove for a donut pan.

            “This must be what war feels like,” Tommy murmured.

            “Okay, you and Sara go down that aisle,” Felicity said, pointing to her left. “And Oliver and I will take on this one. Remember, be bold out there. A second of hesitation is the difference between going home with a chocolate fountain and going home empty handed.”

            “We won’t let you down, captain,” Tommy said.  “Good luck, guys.  We’ll see you on the other side.”

            Tommy and Sara disappeared into the crowd and Felicity looked to Oliver with determination.

            “You ready, Oliver?”

            “I’ve never seen you like this before.  It’s kind of hot.”

            She smirked.  “We’ll flirt later. Let’s go find that C-3PO pan.”

            It turned out the pan wasn’t too difficult to find.  There was a whole stack of them and she easily slid one into her bag, picking out Boba Fett and R2D2 ones to go along with it, as well. As they made their way down the aisle they picked up another few cookies sheets – “You can never have too many!” – a spatula shaped like a Christmas tree, and some assorted red hot cinnamon cupcake toppers that Felicity was fairly sure Oliver intended to dip into one the ride home. 

            And then she saw it.  The Bakingdom Chocolate Pro Fountain.  It was stacked beside a tower of mixmaster boxes, the lone chocolate fountain among the standing mixers. She glanced quickly to the side and spotted her foe.  The woman was tall with flaming red hair and a puffy green jacket.  She’d spotted the fountain and was already making her way toward the boxes. Felicity shoved the bags toward Oliver and sprung forward.  She was almost there when her foot caught on an errant candy thermometer, and she went down hard. 

            “Are you okay?”  Oliver asked urgently, taking a hold of her arm and helping her up.  She looked forlornly at the display, watching the woman in the green coat walk away triumphantly with the chocolate fountain.

            “She got my Bakingdom Chocoalte Pro Fountain,” Felicity said in a small voice. “It looked like the last one.”

            “Come on, maybe there’s another one hidden or something,” he said.

            They walked over and unsuccessfully shifted boxes looking for a wayward box. Finally, they had to admit defeat. They met Tommy and Sara over by the edge of the tent, near the checkout.  To Felicity’s absolute surprise, Tommy was holding a Bakingdom Chocolate Pro Fountain.

            “You got one?” she nearly yelled.  She was too excited to control her volume.

            “I did have to pay someone off,” Tommy said nonchalantly.  “And let her mother feel by butt.  But, it paid off.  We’re using this the minute we get home, by the way.” 

            Felicity grinned, taking the box from him.  “I’m very glad I brought you.”

            “Did you hear that?”  Tommy said with a wide grin, looking from Sara to Oliver.  “Someone please document this.  Felicity just admitted she’s happy I crashed her and Oliver’s Tent Sale date.”

            Felicity snorted.  “Only if someone documents that you admitted to crashing it.”

            “Oh, I never denied that fact,” Tommy returned easily, beginning to walk toward the long checkout line.  “I definitely crashed.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Precious cargo packed away in the trunk, the group grabbed a quick dinner at a small diner and then made their way to a motel for the night. Halfway back to Starling, they decided just to make the trek back home and pick up chocolate for the fountain on the way.  Around eleven o’clock that night, they all were sprawled around Felicity’s living room, the chocolate fountain bubbling away on the coffee table.  They’d neglected to pick up things to dip in the fountain, so they picked up odds and ends from the kitchen.  There was a half eaten bag of Twizzlers, marshmallows, strawberries that were starting to get mushy, and some stale angel food cake from a week or so back.  The choices were suboptimal, but the four of them coulnd’t care less.  Each bite tasted like chocolate-y victory.

            “So, I think this was a pretty good road trip,” Tommy said, popping a marshmallow doused in chocolate in his mouth.  “I mean, it wasn’t a true road trip because we didn’t stay over somewhere, but all in all –“

            “It was a perfect road trip,” Felicity finished with a grin.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

           Chapter Sixteen

It happened on a Tuesday morning.  Felicity was taking a quick shower before work, hurriedly rushing through the motions. She’d woken up with difficulty that morning, a phone call with Oliver going late into the night, and she’d hit the snooze button more than once as a result.  She’d pulled herself from her bed at the absolute last moment, leaving little more than twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and get out of the door.

            She ran her hand under her breast to wash some soap off her skin when her fingers grazed a small lump.  Her fingers pulled back to it immediately, circling the raised skin.  It was just a strange skin irritation.  At least that was what she told herself when she raised her arm for better access.  She ran her fingers along the underside of her breast, and there it was again. A small hard lump.

            Shakily, she reached forward and turned off the water, stepping back as she blindly reached for the shower door and tugged it open.  She dried off in a trance, trying to think of all the things the lump could be.  Maybe a cyst. Or something to do with her period. It was almost her time. Besides, her family had no history of –

            She swallowed hard, unable to say the word even in her mind. Pushing all apocalyptic thoughts from her mind until she had actual answers, she got dressed and made her way out of her apartment.  On the drive to work she scheduled a visit with her doctor.

            It would be fine.  Everything would be fine, because things like this didn’t happen to people like her. It happened to other people. Not her.  It couldn’t be her.

 

* * *

 

 

            Oliver met her for dinner after work, and he could immediately tell that something was wrong.  He set down his glass of wine and asked, “What’s going on?”

            “What do you mean?” she said guardedly.

            “Something’s off.  You’re…I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s wrong.  Tell me what’s going on.”

            She picked up her napkin from her lap and unfolded it, then folded it again. She was stalling, and she knew it. But this wasn’t exactly something you told someone in the middle of a restaurant.  And was there even anything to tell?  So, there was a lump.  That didn’t automatically mean something bad.  She opened her mouth to tell him, and then closed it.

            “Felicity, you’re kind of worrying me,” Oliver said in a low voice. She could see the concern etched on his face, and she thought of just how much worse it would get if she told him the truth.

            “It’s nothing,” she said dismissively, taking a cleansing breath as she committed to the lie.  “It’s just work stuff. I messed something up that I shouldn’t have and my supervisor chewed me out.”

            “Everyone’s entitled to a few mistakes,” he said.  “Even super geniuses like you.”

            She laughed, nodding.  “I guess.”

            “Besides, didn’t your supervisor come to you to fix one of his mistakes last month or something?”

            “Yes,” she said, forgetting that she’d told him that story. “Yes, he did.”

            Her supervisor had input some code incorrectly and it nearly shut down Merlyn Global’s e-commerce.  He’d come to her in a panic, asking for her help and saying something hurriedly about how he couldn’t afford to lose this job.  She’d given him a reassuring back pat and then fixed his mistake in just under an hour.

            “Exactly,” Oliver said.  “So, he should get over this quickly.  If not, you just tell me and I’ll go talk to him.”

            Felicity snorted.  “Oh, really. You’ll go talk to him.”

            “I’ll say – you can’t go upsetting my girlfriend.  It makes our dinners too quiet, and then I have to do all the talking, and we both know how that turns out.”

            She grinned, reaching over and covering his hand.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll try to talk more.”

            He turned her palm over, threading his fingers through hers. “I’m just kidding. But, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

            “I’ll be okay,” she said.  When he wasn’t convinced she gave his hand a squeeze.  “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity went to the doctor later that week.  She didn’t tell anyone, taking a half day off of work and sneaking off after lunch.  She was caught by Malcolm on her way out, and he pleasantly asked where she was rushing off to so quickly.

            “Dental appointment,” she lied.  “I, uh, had some cavities before so I have to get them filled.”

            “You should floss more,” Malcolm said.  “That’s the key to steering clear of cavities.  I floss every morning and have never had a cavity.”

            Felicity nodded blankly.  “Flossing. Yes.  I will…get on that.  I really need to –“

            She made a gesture toward the door and Malcolm quickly said, “Right, of course. I hope you enjoy your appointment.”

            Felicity found that last part particularly ironic, and bit back a hysteric laugh as she murmured, “Me too.”

            It was a quick drive to the hospital, and she was torn between wishing the lights in front of her would turn red or stay green.  To delay what was coming or rush towards it.

            She parked her car near the front of the parking lot and walked into the hospital, heading toward the women’s health wing.  The wing was already decorated for Valentines Day with red and pink everywhere. She thought it a bit premature, and heard another remark the same as she sat down after checking in. A stack of magazines sat beside her on the end table, a lone Good Housekeeping on a pile of old People magazines. She picked up the Good Housekeeping, flipping through the pages without really seeing anything. She paused on a picture of a couple embracing and felt such a longing for Oliver that it physically hurt. She wished that he was with her, holding her hand and reminding her that jumping to conclusions rarely did anyone any good. Instead he was over at Verdant, completely oblivious as to what was happening.

            But it was better this way.  Or maybe it wasn’t.  Either way, she had made her choice.  Whether it was right or wrong, she was sitting in the waiting room alone.

            A nurse walked in, chart in hand, and called out, “Felicity Merlyn.”

            She stood, offering a nervous wave as she gathered up her purse and walked toward her.  The nurse offered her a congenial smile and politely asked for her birth date. 

            “June 26, 1988,” Felicity said.

            The nurse checked the chart and then nodded, offering her another smile as she said, “We’re heading to the second room on the right.”

            Felicity was relieved to see that the pinks and reds did not extend to the actual examination rooms.  It was muted colors, with stock photos up on the walls.  There was a placid ocean view on one wall, on the other a mother and her young daughter. The mother had her arms around the young girl who was smiling with such ebullience that it seemed almost infectious. The nurse reached behind the bed and pulled out a paper gown.

            “Put this on and the doctor will be right with you,” the nurse said. “If you need anything in the time being, I’ll be right outside.  My name is Heather.”

            “Thank you, Heather,” Felicity said.

            Heather offered her another smile – perhaps the last – and then walked out, closing the door with a soft click.  Felicity undressed methodically, folding her clothes and putting them on the bed. She reached under her breast and felt for the lump.  Some part of her had foolishly hoped it would be gone, but there it was.  Just as there and lumpy as ever.  Swallowing disappointment, she pulled on the gown and tied it on the side.

            It was only a few minutes before the doctor came in.  Felicity had only gone to Dr. Stone once since she moved to Starling, but he had one of those faces that immediately put people at ease.

            “Hello Felicity, how are you?”

            She nodded mechanically and returned, “Okay.”

            “That’s wonderful.  What brings you in today?”

            She bit the inside of her cheek and then told him about the lump she found. He nodded, pulling a pair of gloves onto his hands.

            “Do you mind if I take a look?”

            She shook her head and untied the gown.  He asked again which breast it was on, and then felt under her breast like she had only a few minutes earlier.  She tried to read his expression, but it was neutral.

            “Do you know roughly when it developed?” he asked.

            “Recently?” Felicity tried. “I mean, I haven’t noticed it before.”

            He nodded. “Do you do regular breast examinations?”

            She shook her head.  It was one of those things that she knew she should do but never actually did. Like flossing. She swore to do it immediately when she got home.

            “I think that it would be a good idea to have you get a breast biopsy,” Dr. Stone explained.  His voice was just as calm and neutral as before, and for some reason that made her feel more anxious.  “I’m going to refer you to Dr. Hanks.  I want to get this looked at sooner rather than latter, and he’s usually pretty good at scheduling patients.  I’ll call him right now and his office will contact you to set up a time.”

            Felicity nodded, suddenly feeling bare.  She gripped the front of the gown tight around her chest.

            “Is it –“ she stopped herself, licking her lips.  “Do you think it’s serious?”

            “I honestly can’t tell you that,” Dr. Stone said.  “But this is the normal first step.  Something looks unusual and we biopsy it. It’s not a reason for more concern.”

            She nodded, curling and uncurling her toes.  Her heels pressed against the cold base of the bed and she pushed against it.

            “I’ll go back that call now,” Dr. Stone said.  “Try to stay positive.  Even if there is something, there are a lot of treatment options.”

            Her head moved back and forth again.  She felt like a bobble head.

            “Thank you, Dr. Stone.”

            He left the room and she dressed slowly, folding the gown afterwards. Part of the gown tore as she folded it and she struggled to smooth the tear, her hands trembling as she ineffectively ran her hands over the torn fabric. 

            “Felicity?”

            She turned back and found the nurse Heather at the door, looking at her sympathetically.

            “I…I ripped the gown,” Felicity said, her voice breaking.  “I’m sorry.  I –“

            “Don’t worry about it,” Heather said, scooping the gown out of Felicity’s hands. “It happens all the time. Really.”

            Felicity nodded, her fingers beginning to work the material of her dress. “Well, I should get going.”

            “Dr. Stone told me about scheduling the biopsy,” Heather said. “You should get a call about that soon.”

            “Okay, thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

            That night her and Oliver had Thai food out in the city and then went back to her apartment.  She pressed her side against his on the couch, curling up beside him like a cat. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

            “What do you think about Verdant for tonight?  There’s this cool DJ that’s playing.  Tommy hasn’t been able to stop talking about him.”

            “Let’s stay in,” she said, yawning wide.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

            “It’s 8:30. How are you beat, already?”

            “It was a long day,” she said casually.

            “Another face off between you and your supervisor?” he teased.

            Her memory went back to that waiting room with its overly cheery decorations, and she murmured, “Something like that.”

            “I’m fine staying in,” he said.  “Aren’t there _Breaking Bad_ reruns on AMC tonight?”

            “I think you’re right.”

            She flipped on the TV and went over to AMC.  Sure enough, Walter White’s face filled the screen.  It was one of the earlier seasons, maybe the second or third. Walt was sitting in a robin-egg-blue room, an IV running from his arm.  A yellowish liquid went down into his vein.

            “Change the channel,” she said suddenly, her stomach churning.

            Oliver looked down at her in confusion.  “What?”

            “Just change the channel.  Please. Change it.”

            “I thought you liked _Breaking Bad_ ,” he said, but he did change the channel.  He glanced down at her, noticing how her face had gone white, and asked, “Are you okay?”

            She nodded, tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips.  “Yeah.  I’m – it was the chemo.  That stuff grosses me out. You know how I am with needles.”

            “No, actually, I didn’t,” Oliver said.  He smiled slightly.  “I’m learning new things about you every day, Felicity.”

            She smiled weakly.  “I wish I wasn’t such a hotbed of new information.”

            “I like it,” he teased.  “It keeps things exciting.”

            “What about for me,” she said, wanting to get miles away from what just happened. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

            He dropped his face down to hers and kissed her.  “I love you.”

            She flushed, reaching up and taking a hold of his face. He had a slight stubble on his jaw and it prickled against her fingers.  “I already know that.”

            “Yeah, but I like saying it.”

            “I like hearing it.”

            He kissed her again and then said, “Also, I hate pickles.”

            “Really?”

            He nodded.  “They’re just like little cucumbers.  Which, for the record, I also hate.”

            “Wow. I feel like I’m looking at an entirely new man.”

            She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, taking comfort in the familiar taste of his mouth.  The kiss was easy and unhurried.  She brushed her fingers against his jaw, the curves and planes of his face as familiar to her as her own.  After a while she pulled away, settling herself back against his side and wishing that what they had could never be disturbed.

 

* * *

 

 

            The fine needle aspiration biopsy was scheduled for early in the next week. Felicity had intended on going alone, but as the day drew nearer she found her nerves mounting, and thought it would be good for someone to be there with her.  She stood by her decision to not tell Oliver until she knew something concrete, and neglected considering Tommy for much of the same reasons. She didn’t want to worry them needlessly.  Besides, she was already worried enough as it was, and she didn’t need to be doubly worried about how they would hold up.  She needed someone who she knew could take it.

            So, she called Sara.

            “You haven’t told, Tommy?”  Sara asked, behind the wheel as they drove to the hospital.  When she’d heard what Felicity was requesting she immediately agreed, but insisted that she drive.

            “I don’t want to worry him,” Felicity said, prattling off the same reasoning she’d hammered into her mind over the past week.  “I mean, it could be nothing.  Why worry him if it’s nothing?  I’m…” she trailed off, clearing her throat, “…I’m worrying enough for all of us as it is.”

            “And Oliver?”

            Felicity shook her head.

            “But wouldn’t it have been nice to have someone to go through this with you?”

            “I have you,” Felicity offered weakly.

            “Yeah, from about 8:00 last night.”

            Felicity propped her elbow up on the car’s window.  “It’s hard to explain, but I’m already terrified. I’ve been terrified since that morning in the shower.  And I don’t…I don’t think I can handle someone else being scared for me right now. It’s hard enough managing my own fears.”

            “I won’t tell them,” Sara said after a moment. 

            Felicity glanced over at her and murmured, “Thank you.”

            It was all a blur from the ride there to the examination room. Sara stayed in the waiting room, gamely telling Felicity she had enough back issues of People to keep her happy for a good few hours.  Dr. Hanks was a bit pokier than Dr. Stone, giving Felicity a good fifteen minutes to work herself up to a state somewhere between fear and panic.  She tapped into the yoga breathing she’d learned in her classes, focusing on just taking one breath in and letting one out. By the time Dr. Hanks finally walked in, she had calmed down somewhat.

            “Hello Felicity, I’m Dr. Hanks,” he said politely, shaking her head. “I see that you are here for a breast biopsy.”

            She nodded.  “Yes, I am.”

            He explained the different types of biopsies and told her that he was choosing to go with the least invasive.   He would locate the area of the lump and draw out a small amount of fluid and tissue with a syringe.

            “I’ll numb the area first,” he explained.  “And then draw out the tissue.  I should have you out of here pretty quickly.”

            Felicity nodded, thinking that quick was good.  She’d reached the point that she didn’t want any more delays. She wanted to know the truth, and then deal with it.

            He had her peel down the top of her gown, and then applied a numbing agent to the lump.  He disappeared for a few minutes and then returned.  He tapped the area and asked, “Can you feel that?”

            She shook her head.

            “Alright, let’s give it a few more minutes and then I’ll do the biopsy.”

            He left again, and while he was gone a nurse rolled in a cart with a syringe, a vial, gauze, and some bandages.  Felicity thought to herself how in a few minutes a bit of her would be in that vial.

            “Alright, are we ready?” Dr. Hanks said, walking into the room. He pulled on a pair of gloves and then grabbed the syringe.  “Now, I need you to sit up like before.  There you go.”

            She turned her head so that she wouldn’t see the needle slide into her breast. A few seconds later it was over, and Dr. Hanks was carefully transferring fluid from the lump into the vial. The fluid was a cloudy red, and she didn’t have the courage to ask what that meant.

            He told her that he had all he needed and he would call her as soon as results were back from the lab.  He offered some encouraging words, but she didn’t really process them. After getting dressed she walked back out to the waiting room, and felt such relief at the sight of Sara that she actually felt her legs go weak.  Sara stood immediately and took her arm.

            “You okay?”

            Felicity nodded.  “Thank you for being here today.  With me. I don’t know if I could have done this alone.”

            Sara slid her hand down Felicity’s arm and took a hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

            They left the hospital, Felicity grateful that she didn’t have to drive. Her nerves were pulled so tightly that she found it difficult to do normal tasks without her hands shaking. They drove mostly in silence, until Sara pulled to a stop in front of Felicity’s apartment.

            “You know, whatever happens, they’ll be there for you,” Sara said. “We all will.”

            Felicity nodded.  “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Dr. Hanks called her that night with the results.  It was an invasive ductal carcinoma, one of the most common breast cancers, and one prone to spreading to other parts of the body.  She numbly scheduled an MRI screening, her vision shifting as he calmly explained to her what the next steps would be. 

            “Okay,” she said.  Over and over again she said it. Okay.  Okay.  But it wasn’t okay. Not even a little. Because she was only twenty-seven, and this wasn’t supposed to happen to her.  None of this was supposed to happen to her.

            When she hung up she gathered a sofa pillow into her lap and hugged it tightly. She felt a sob rise up in her chest but it never came.  Instead she stared ahead, the silence deafening.

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedback!!

Chapter Seventeen

He didn’t say anything.  Not a word.  He was completely silent, but his expression said everything.  She could see it in his eyes.  The disbelief and confusion quickly morphing into fear as what she told him settled, _really_ settled, to where it wasn’t just words but images, and what ifs, and a future that neither of them could truly fathom. 

But, he didn’t say anything. It was as if he forgot how to speak. Forgot how to string together words and sentences.  Even as she watched a dozen emotions pass over his face, he remained silent.

“Say something,” she said softly.  “Please. Say something. Anything.”

He opened his mouth and closed it.

“Oliver-“

“Are you sure?” he finally said.  His voice was raw. “Are you sure the results are right. Maybe they called the wrong person.”

“They didn’t call the wrong person,” Felicity said.  “I mean…I guess they could have called the wrong person.  But, they didn’t.  They didn’t, Oliver.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since last night,” she said. “I went to the doctor earlier in the day – “

“By yourself?”

She shook her head. “I asked Sara to go with me.”

Felicity could see the hurt flash plainly in Oliver’s eyes.  This wasn’t what she wanted.  She was trying to protect him by keeping him out of all of this until she knew more. But, he was plainly hurt.

“Sara? Why didn’t you ask me?”

“I didn’t want to get you worried,” she said.  “It was only a lump. I needed to know more.”

“I had a right to be worried,” he said. “I love you, Felicity.  I get to be worried about these things.”

“It could have been nothing. I found the lump, and I thought…” she trailed off, clearing her throat she tried to say it.  She thought it was nothing.  It could have been nothing.  Nothing.

But it wasn’t. And part of her had always known that. She’d known it in the shower. At the doctor’s office. On her couch while she waited next to her phone, dreading the call that would change her life forever. Although she held on to the hope that it could turn out another way – any other way – that hope had been nothing more than a lie to help her get through the hours, minutes, and seconds between that morning in the shower and the phone call.

Because, it happened. Of course it happened. It was always going to happen, and as the reality of her situation hit her with renewed strength, she found herself gasping for breath, her body pitched forward as sobs broke through her body.

She hadn’t cried since getting the news, and now that she finally got around to it the whole thing felt sort of nice.  Cathartic. The golf ball in her throat, which had been there pretty much since that shower, finally dislodged and as a sort of melancholy desperation at her situation spread in her belly, there was a certain sense of relief, too.  It was as if telling Oliver was what she needed to finally let herself feel, and then she felt everything at once.  Pain, fear, anger – it was all there, mixing together like the world’s most depressing drink that was then forced down her throat.

And she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop the feelings from rising in her chest and spreading through her veins.  Even as it became too much, as the relief fell away all together and it was just the painful part, searing through her body like a poison.

Strong arms wound their way around her and she strained against them as she wrapped her hands tightly around his forearms, wanting the distance and closeness in equal measure. He pulled her against his chest, murmuring something she couldn’t understand as her gasping breaths still filled her ears. When she calmed down, the first thing she heard was his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, turning her face in toward his chest.  She nuzzled her cheek against his sweater.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  I just, I couldn’t.  I couldn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, holding her tightly.  Her body was so sturdy in his arms, and his thoughts turned darkly to when it wouldn’t be that way anymore. He held her even tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He gently took a hold of her chin and turned her gaze up toward him.  “I know now.  That’s all that matters. I know now and I’m not going anywhere.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen to us,” she said sadly. 

“I know.”

“I don’t want this. I don’t want it for me. I don’t want it for us.”

He took her hands in his and kissed them tenderly.  “I know you don’t want this.  I don’t want this for you, either.  But we’ll get through it.”

“What if we don’t,” she said, a new sort of panic gripping her.  “I’ve seen this happen before.  I had a friend in college who got sick.  It became too much for her boyfriend.  He couldn’t take it – “

“I can take it,” Oliver said firmly.

“But what if you can’t? What if I can’t? What if all of this is too much, and we can’t handle the pressure, and – “

He cut her off in the most effective way he knew how, silencing her with his mouth against hers. She kissed him back feverishly, her hands grasping his face and mouth moving frantically against his, as if she was searching for reassurance.  He stroked the back of her neck, urging her to slow down.  Her mouth stilled for a moment against his, but then she kissed him again, almost tentatively.  He returned the kiss and then pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you, Felicity. I love you more than I knew it was possible to love someone.  And you have to believe me when I tell you that no matter what happens, it will not be too much for me.  You could never be too much for me.”

“I love you so much,” she murmured.  “I-I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“You won’t have to,” he assured her.  “I’m going to be here for you. No matter what.”

 

* * *

 

 

            That afternoon they told Tommy, a united front as both watched their close friend digest the news.  Where Oliver had reacted with silence, stunned by the news, Tommy was the opposite. He jumped right into rescue mode, questioning treatment options and whether or not Felicity wanted to seek a second opinion.  It reminded Felicity of when they were little and she’d fallen off her bike.  She’d skinned her knee pretty badly and ribbons of blood tracked down her tanned calf.  While she was a sobbing mess he’d immediately gone and gotten the first aid kit from the house and patiently cleaned the blood off her leg and disinfected and wrapped up her knee.  Tommy Merlyn was good in a crisis.  Sometimes too good.

            “I haven’t thought much about treatments yet,” Felicity said. “Or second opinions. I know I have an appointment with Dr. Hanks on Thursday.  He told me we would discuss options then.”

            “Have you gone for a scan yet?”  Tommy said. He stood from the couch suddenly and walked over to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a notebook and pen. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and began writing.  “Because the scan will probably determine what your treatment options are. You said you had an appointment on Thursday?”

            Felicity nodded blindly, feeling a bit whiplashed from Tommy’s sudden call to action. 

            “What are you writing?”  she asked, trying to steal a glance at the hurried scrawl.  She could catch a few words, but not much more.

            “Things for us to consider,” Tommy said off-handedly.  “So, you’re scheduled for scans before Thursday, right?”

            “Tomorrow, actually,” she said.  “I’m scheduled for a CT scan and blood work.”

            Tommy nodded, considering this thoughtfully.  “I think you should consider a second opinion.  Let me talk to my dad.  He’s on the board at Starling General and probably knows some – “

            “No, don’t tell him,” she said quickly.

            “What, why not?”

            “I don’t want everyone to know.  Especially Malcolm.  I don’t want people to start treating me differently.”

            “People are going to find out,” Tommy pressed.  “Isn’t it better to tell them now.  Besides, my dad can probably help.  Granted, he’s usually not my first pick for anything resembling help, but –“

            “I’ll tell him, just not now,”  Felicity repeated.  “I need time to figure out how to tell everyone.  This isn’t exactly something I just drop into conversation.”

            “I can set up a dinner for us.  I think he’s free tomorrow night.”

            Felicity squeezed her eyes shut out of frustration.  “No, not tomorrow night.”

            “Well, what about –“

            “Tommy, I think you should respect Felicity’s wishes,” Oliver interrupted, noting how pale Felicity had grown.  “She’ll tell people in her own time.”

            Oliver stepping in seemed to rattle Tommy, and he responded with a knee-jerk nod of his head and stammered, “Right, of course.  I was just trying to help.”

            “And I appreciate that,” Felicity said.  “But right now, I just need some time.  All of this has been a bit of a whirlwind for me.”

            “I can only imagine,” Tommy said, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I jumped the gun a bit, didn’t I? Trying to set up a dinner with my dad?”

            “It’s what you do in a crisis.  Remember when we were little and I’d get in accidents and stuff?  You were always the first person to jump to action.”

            Tommy smiled a bit, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a man of action. For better or worse. I-I don’t really know what else to do. Besides, well, _do_ something.”

She stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist.  “I know.”

“How are you with all of it?” he asked, cheeks flushing.  “I realized I never really asked.”

She tried to think of an adequate but truthful response, and settled for “I’m managing.”

“Anything you need from me, I’m here.  I mean it. Anything.”

            “How about some Big Belly?”  Felicity offered weakly.  “We can eat it here, maybe watch some TV.”

            “Big Belly,” Tommy repeated, sounding a bit surprised. “You really want Big Belly right now?”

            “I just want to do something normal.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her voice.  “Can we do that?”

            Tommy exchanged a look with Oliver and nodded.  “Yeah.  I think we can do that.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Sara Lance arrived along with the Big Belly order, and the four of them squeezed onto the couch for some Tuesday night television.  When they couldn’t find anything good on the normal channels Tommy popped for a movie from On Demand.  They chose some Kevin Hart comedy and talked through the entire thing. They went on about nothing and everything.  It was one of those conversations that had no real direction, just thoughts spun around bites of burger and sips of soda.  Somehow they got on the topic of superheros, and they all chose which one they’d want to be.

            “Green Arrow all the way,” Oliver said.

            “He uses a bow,” Tommy returned, obviously counting this as a negative. Oliver, however, responded gamely, “Exactly.  That’s pretty awesome.”

            “Why use a bow when you can use other weapons that are way cooler. Like a gun.  Or a curved sword.”

            Sara snorted.  “A curved sword? Seriously?”

            “You can do a hell of a lot more damage with a curved sword than an arrow. All you’ll do with that is make someone limp.”

            “Well, then who would you be, genius?”  Oliver asked.

            “Easy. Batman.”

            “That is so lame,” Sara said with a roll of her eyes.  “Everyone chooses Batman.”

            “I didn’t,” Oliver pointed out.

            “That’s because you’re an original,” Felicity said, kissing his shoulder. It felt nice to be sitting, having a semi-normal conversation.  In the wake of the news it didn’t seem possible for anything to feel normal again, but wedged in the couch with her two closest guys and Sara, she felt normal. Okay, even.

            “I’d be the Canary,” Sara said to no one in particular.  “I like the leather.”

            Tommy let out a low whistle.  “Me too. “

            “And the whole feminist vibe,” Sara added.  “She just seems like a cool chick.”

            “What about you?”  Oliver said, glancing down at Felicity.  “Who’s your superhero?”

            “I don’t need to be one,”  she answered with a slight grin.  “I’ll be that super smart and sexy tech girl working behind the scenes saving all of your butts.”

            Oliver considered that for a moment and nodded appreciatively. “Sounds about right, actually.”

            They fell silent, all of them imagining their superhero – or not – alter egos. Felicity’s thoughts fell back to where they always seemed to fall since the doctor, and Oliver glanced over at her, sensing the shift in her mood.  He nudged his arm around her and then pulled her against his side, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

            “It’s going to be okay.”

            She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

 

 

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my word, I had difficulty writing this chapter. I left out the treatment stuff from this in hopes that next chapter will go more smoothly. I'd love to hear your feedback.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Felicity sat in her living room, TV playing with some show on Bravo and a Food Network magazine on her lap. Her door opened behind her and she glanced back, offering Oliver a quick grin.  He walked in and she noticed the three large shopping bags he was carrying.

            “What have you got there?” she asked.

            She spotted a few celery stalks poking out of one bag and some boxes in another.

            “Well, I have some apples,” he began, hoisting the bags up on the counter and beginning to unpack them.  “And whole wheat cereal, that’s better than that sugary stuff you buy.”

            “I like my sugary stuff,” she returned, resting her chin on the top of the couch cushion.  “That’s why I buy it.”

“You should eat less sugar. Remember, Dr. Stone said you should try to clean up your diet?  It’ll help.”

Felicity snorted and said, “I don’t really know how cleaning up my diet will help my _breast_ cancer, but-“

“It’ll help how you feel,” Oliver said.  “Your energy levels and all that.”

“I feel fine,” she argued petulantly. “My energy levels feel fine.”

“I also got you some kale,” Oliver continued, pulling a large bundle out of one of the grocery bags. “It’s a super food, you know.”

“Super,” she muttered, turning back around and puling her knees into her chest.  Oliver unpacked the bags quietly behind her, and then said, “You know, I’m only trying to help.”

“I know,” she said.

“I feel sort of useless in all of this, so I’m just…I’m doing what I can.  And I can buy you groceries and look up super foods. I know it’s not the most important thing, but it’s something I can do.  It’s really all I can do.”

“It’s not all you do,” she said, turning back.  “You’re here for me. You support me.”

“I wish I could go through this for you,” he said, closing the refrigerator door.  “I really do.”

“I’m sorry for not being as appreciative as I should be,” she said.  “I’m just really nervous about Friday.  I’ve never had a surgery before.  The thought of someone cutting into me…I don’t really like it.”

Oliver walked over and settled next to her on the couch.  Her eyes had flooded with tears, and she turned her head away from him as she wiped at her eyes.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

“They’re going to take out the tumor,” Oliver reminded her, repeating what Dr. Stone had told them at her follow-up earlier that week.  “That’s a good thing.”

“I know,” she said, balling her fists in her lap to try to steady herself.  “But, what if they don’t get it all?  What if they miss some?”

“They’re not going to miss some,” he told her levelly.

“But they could. And then they have to take out the lymph nodes –“

“Which Dr. Stone said is just precautionary,” he told her levelly.

“What if one of the lymph nodes they take out tests positive?  That means it’s spread to my lymph node system, and I read online that when it spreads to your lymph nodes it’s really bad.”

“Why were you looking on the internet?  You’re not supposed to look on the internet for this stuff.  Didn’t Dr. Stone say to –“

“I know,” she returned stubbornly.  “I know what Dr. Stone said.  I was at that visit too, remember?”

“I know you were,” he said.

“I just thought looking online would make me feel better.  The whole knowledge is power thing.  Let me tell you, knowledge is _not_ power.”

Oliver grinned a bit, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and puling her against him. He kissed the side of her head and murmured, “Yeah, I could see how it wouldn’t be in this particular situation.”

“I’m scared, Oliver,” she murmured.  “I’m more scared than I’ve ever been and I don’t really know what to do about it. I don’t know how to not feel like this.”

“You don’t have to feel any other way,” he told her gently.  “This is a scary thing.  But, we’re going to get through this.  We’re going to get through the surgery, and we’re going to get through the results, and anything else that is thrown at us.  We’ll get through it all.”

He kissed her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut, futilely wishing that when she opened her eyes it would all be over.  The surgery would be done and she’d have her good results, and she could get on with her life. But that wasn’t where she was. This wasn’t over. It had barely begun.

“So, I was talking with Tommy,” Oliver began, “and he really wants to be at the hospital Friday. I told him I’d need to talk with you first, but –“

“He can be there,” she said. “It’s not like he’d listen if I said no, anyway.”

Oliver smirked. “Yes, he would.”

“Have you met Tommy?”

“He’d respect your wishes,” Oliver said.  “Or, you know, just wait in the front lobby so you didn’t know he was there.”

Felicity glanced up at him. “That’s his plan if I said no, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yeah.  Pretty much.”

“Tell him to come,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.  “He can bring Sara, too.  We might as well have a full house.  Why not.”

“I also wanted to talk to you about something else,” Oliver said, clearing his throat. “Have you called your mom yet?”

“No,” she admitted. “Not yet.”

“I think you should call her. She’d probably want to be there for you Friday.”

“I don’t want to worry her,” Felicity said.  “You don’t know how my mom gets with this sort of stuff.  She’s…I don’t want to freak her out.”

“Felicity, I think we’re past the point of freaking out.  You need to tell her before she hears from someone else.  You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Felicity sighed, pressing herself closer to him.  “Okay. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“I know,” she said, sliding her hand around his torso.  “You do realize, though, that this means she’ll come down here and never leave?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I did think of that.”

She yawned and said, “Maybe we can make her eat all that kale.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Donna Smoak sobbed for a good five minutes on the phone when Felicity gave her the news and then insisted that she be there Friday for the surgery. Felicity, expecting nothing less – including the tears – told her that sounded fine and even offered to get her the plane ticket.  It felt like such a normal thing to do that Felicity actually enjoyed it.  She was being productive, which was more than she felt in her own life.

            “The ticket is for tomorrow,” Felicity told Oliver.  “So, I’ll have to get the apartment ready. Remind me to put out some of her stuff when we get back.”

            “Some of her stuff?”  Oliver asked, not understanding.

            “Yeah, she got me all of this stuff for my apartment and it’s not really my style, so I only put it out when she visits.”

            “Subterfuge at its best,”  Tommy said from the kitchen table, where he was sorting mail.  “Although, I don’t get why you don’t like some of that stuff.”

            “Have you seen some of that stuff?”

            “Yeah, but it’s not all bad.”

            Felicity frowned.  “It’s all…bohemian. And paisley.  I really hate paisley.”

            “I don’t blame you for that,” Oliver said.  “Let’s not put the paisley stuff out.”

            “Are you excited to see your mom?”  Tommy asked.

            “She’s going to fuss over me,” Felicity said in response. “And probably cry more.”  

            “Donna is a crier,” Tommy noted.  He picked up a takeout menu for a nearby Chinese place and said, “Hey Oliver, Dragon Palace is the place with the hot hostess, right?”

            “Yeah,” Oliver said, starting a bit when he saw Felicity’s disapproving look. “It’s not what you think.”

            “You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she returned.

            “Down, Felicity,” Tommy called from the table.  “There are two Chinese places Oliver and I go to out here, but we can never remember which one has the good food.  But, the shitty one has a hot hostess.  So, if we remember which one has the hot hostess we don’t get soggy egg rolls.”

            “You sure about that?”  Felicity offered with a smirk.

            “You shouldn’t be allowed to joke like that,” Tommy said, wrinkling his nose.

            “Come on, I’m going under the knife in two days.  Give me a break.”

            Oliver’s jaw tightened as Tommy said, “You shouldn’t be allowed to joke like that, either.”

            “I’m trying humor as a coping mechanism,” Felicity said.  “It sort of works.”

            Tommy nodded blankly.  “Well, that’s good. I think.”

            “Don’t worry,” Felicity sighed, pulling her feet up under her on the couch and nestling into the corner.  “I don’t have much material.”

            “Hey, Donna shops at Bed Bath & Beyond, right?”  Tommy said.

            “Yeah.”

            “Give her this coupon,” he said, holding up one of their large blue coupons. “I swear, we get one every week.”

            “You should keep these,” she said.  “You know they practically never expire.”

            “Seriously? Dammit, I should have kept the others. We could have given them all to your mom.  That would have probably gotten me favorite cousin ranking.”

            Felicity laughed.  “Yes, it probably would have.”

            “So, what time is your surgery again on Friday?”  Tommy asked after a moment.  All three could feel the shift in the room, and Felicity flicked a crumb from the couch cushion as she said, “Eight o’clock.”

            “That early, huh?  They’re not wasting any time.”

            Felicity shrugged.  “It’s the time Dr. Stone had available.”

            “Oh, I don’t care that it’s early,” Tommy said quickly. “I’ll be there. I’d be there if it was at five in the morning.  Four in the morning. It doesn’t make a difference.”

            “But not three in the morning,” Oliver added soberly.  “Tommy needs his beauty sleep.”

            “I’m glad it’s early,” Felicity said.  “I just want to get it over.  If it were later I’d just be thinking about it all day, anyway.”

            Tommy came over with a beer and sat down next to her.  He knocked his beer against her leg and asked, “How are you doing with everything?”

            “I’m scared,” she told him.  “But, I’m okay.  I just have to get through this.”

            He nodded.  “You will. You’re strong. Remember when we were little and you were trying to learn how to rollerblade?  You must have fallen about every foot you moved, but you got up. Every time you got up.”

            “I forgot about that,” she said with a small smile.  She thought about it for a moment and said, “I really hated rollerblading.”

            He laughed. “I know.  You really did.”

            “But I did get up,” she said with conviction.  Her face softening, she looked over at her cousin and said, “Thank you, Tommy.”

            “For what?”

            She linked her arm through his.  “For reminding me about silly stuff from when we were kids.  And for being here.  It means a lot to me.”

            “You’re family, Felicity.  I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity knew her mother had arrived when she heard her high pitched voice apologizing for knocking on the wrong door.  Oliver looked over at her from the couch and said, “Is that…”

            “Yes,” Felicity said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, it is.”

            She made her way to the door and opened it right as Donna was poised to knock. Donna’s mouth dropped open when she saw her daughter and then she had her arms around her, Felicity gasping for breath as she managed, “Mom…breathing…I…”

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” Donna said, loosening her grip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

            Felicity grinned slightly and shook her head.  She stepped back, taking a look at her mother.  Donna looked much like she always did with her bright dress and perfectly curled hair.  But Felicity noticed the way her mouth twitched and the dark circles under her eyes that concealer didn’t quite cover.

            “Hello Mrs. Smoak,” Oliver said, walking over.

            Donna grinned, stepping forward and grabbing his hand. She grasped it tightly as she said, “I’d heard about you and my daughter.  And let me tell you, I could not be more thrilled.  Especially now, with everything.  I am very happy that she has someone like you in her life.”

            Oliver nodded.  “I’m lucky to have her, too.”

            Donna let go of his hand.  “Well, that goes without saying.”

            “So, we have the couch all set up for you,” Felicity said, taking Donna’s suitcase and rolling it into the apartment.  She closed the door behind her.  “We have blankets and pillows.  And, um, anything else you need.”

            “That sounds like more than enough.”

            “We were just ordering some pizza for dinner,” Oliver said. “Do you want some?”

            “Sure. Thank you.”

            Oliver took out his phone and dialed into the pizza place.  As he placed the order Donna walked over to Felicity and took her hands in hers.  Her lower lip trembled and Felicity went, “Mom, no.  Don’t-“

            “I know,” Donna said, sniffing loudly and taking a deep breath. “I’m fine.  I really am.  I just…you don’t look sick.  You just look like you.”

            Felicity nodded.  “I know.”

            They went over to the couch and Donna asked, “Do you feel different?”

            Felicity shook her head.  “Just scared.”

            “So, what is it exactly that you’re getting done tomorrow?”

            “I’m having the tumor removed,” Felicity explained slowly.  “And then they’re going to take out two lymph nodes to see if the cancer has spread.”

            “Why are they checking that?”  Donna asked hesitantly.

            “It’s just a precaution,” Felicity told her.  “But, they will test those lymph nodes and then we will see if I need further treatment.”

            “Like chemo therapy?”

            Felicity nodded, feeling the familiar nervous energy course through her as she spoke about the surgery and next steps.  “Yeah, like chemo therapy.”

            “Alright, and the pizza is on the way,” Oliver said, walking over to them. “I hope you’re hungry, because I ordered the largest side.”

            Felicity forced a grin.  “Sounds great.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Later that night, when the pizza was gone and Donna had gone to sleep, Felicity laid with Oliver in her bed, her head resting on his chest. She took comfort in the steady, familiar sound of his heartbeat. 

            “Are you still up?”  Oliver asked softly.

            “Yeah,” she said.  “I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking that when I wake up we’re going to the hospital, and when we’re at the hospital…”

            “I know.  Well, at least you’ll get a good sleep in there.”

            She chucked lightly.  “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

            “Worrying about it won’t make it better, you know,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face.

            “I know.  But I can’t stop. It’s like a conveyer belt of awful thoughts in my mind.  I try to stop them, but more just keep coming.”

            “We could play a game,” he offered.

            She looked up at him with a dubious look.  “What game?”

            “Just a word game or something to take your mind off of everything. Here, I have one. I’ll name a movie and then you have to name another that starts with the same letter my movie ended with.”

            “This is stupid.”

            “Don’t knock it until you try it,” he told her.  “Okay, um, The Bourne Identity.”

            “Wow, we’re actually doing this,” she murmured.

            “It’s your turn.”

            She sighed.  “Fine, what was your movie again?”

            “Bourne Identity.”

            “Okay… a movie that starts with the letter yours ends with…You’ve Got Mail.”

            “Lars And The Real Girl.”

            “Lord Of The Rings.”

            “Something Borrowed.”

            Felicity smirked.  “Aren’t you glad I made you watch that movie?”

            “I told you I liked it.  Um, Date Night.”

            Felicity yawned.  “To Be Or Not To Be.”

            “Eragon.”

            “Slow down, I can’t think that fast.”

            He laughed.  “I’m sorry, take all the time you need.”

            “Okay.” She thought about it for a few moments and then said, “Notting Hill.”

            “I hate this letter,” Oliver complained.  He went through his usual movies and found himself stumped. After a while he came up with, “Love Actually.”

            She didn’t say anything and he softly murmured her name.  She responded with a soft snore. 

 

* * *

 

 

            The next morning was filled with stilted silence – all parties involved feeling the stress of the day but not wanting to admit it – and then when they got to the hospital it was filling out forms and waiting, waiting, _waiting_ for Felicity’s name to be called. It was almost a relief when Felicity found herself on the hospital bed, dressed in the flimsy hospital gown. Donna sat with her while she waited to be wheeled down to the operating room.

            “We’ll be right in the waiting room,” Donna told her.  “You should see all the people who showed up for you. Tommy’s there and this blonde girl.”

            “Sara,” Felicity told her.

            “Right, Sara.  We’re all here for you, babe. And we all love you very much.”

            “I love you all, too.”

            “Now, babe, I need…I need you to do something for me,” Donna said, taking her hand and grasping it tightly.  “I need you to hang in there.  No matter what happens, I need you to fight.”

            “I will,” she said, squeezing her hand.  “I promise, I will.”

            “Okay,” Donna said succinctly, releasing her daughter’s hand. Felicity saw Donna attempt to gather herself, and then she leaned down and kissed Felicity’s forehead. “I love you, babe.”

            “I love you too, Mom.”

            A nurse walked in and asked, “The operating room is all set. Are you ready, Felicity?”

            Felicity nodded, taking a deep breath.  “I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “I hate hospitals,” Tommy said, looking around the waiting room. “It’s like you’re in a time warp. The artwork looks like it’s from the 70s and all the magazines are two years old.”

            “I don’t really mind the old magazines,” Sara said, flipping through a People. “I get to relive the days when George Clooney was a bachelor and Taylor Swift was still a country artist.”

            “She’s not a country artist anymore?”  Tommy said. 

            “I don’t think so,” Sara said.  “There isn’t any guitar in her new album.”

            “I never knew you were a Taylor Swift fan,” Tommy noted.  “You’re just full of surprises.”

            Sara smirked.  “Yes, I am.”

            “What about you, Oliver?”  Tommy asked. “You a Taylor Swift fan?”

            Oliver, who had been staring listlessly at one of the walls, looked over at Tommy and said, “What?”

            “Taylor Swift,”  Tommy repeated. “Yay or nay.”

            “Um, yay?  I don’t know. Why are we talking about Taylor Swift?”

            “You really didn’t hear a word we said, did you?”

            “No, I didn’t,” Oliver said testily.  “I have other things on my mind.  Like how my girlfriend is being operated on right now.”

            “Man, calm down.  I was just kidding,” Tommy said.  “And we’re all worried about Felicity.  We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.”

            “I know, I’m sorry,” Oliver said, leaning forward in his seat. “I’m just a little tightly wound right now.  Do you know if they have coffee somewhere here?  I think I could use some coffee.”

            “The machine in here is broken,” Donna said.

            “I’ll go to the cafeteria then,” Oliver said.  “Do any of you want something?”

            All of them made a general answer of yes, and Tommy stood up and said, “Why don’t I help you. “

            Oliver nodded.  “Okay. Guys, we’ll be right back.”

            They went to the elevator and pressed the down button.  As they waited something caught Oliver’s eye and he glanced down the hall, heart slamming against his chest when he saw nurses rolling Felicity’s bed.  He was off toward them without a word and Tommy called out for him.

            “How is she?”  Oliver asked hurriedly, unable to tear his gaze from Felicity’s face.  She was breathing, or at least it looked like she was.

            “Sir, she can’t have visitors right now,” one of the nurses said. “The doctor will come and get you when –“

            “Is she okay, though?  I mean, you’re right here.  Can you just tell me if she’s okay?”

            The nurses worked on hooking Felicity back up to the monitors in the room.

            “Oliver, come on,” Tommy said, taking a hold of his arm.  “Let’s go back to the waiting room.  They’ll get us when they’re ready.”

            “Please,” Oliver begged.  “Just tell me how she is.”

            “She handled the surgery well,” the nurse said.  “That is all we can tell you.  I’m really sorry but she cannot have visitors right now. The doctor will come and get you soon.”

            Oliver nodded, rubbing his neck anxiously.  “Okay, thank you.”

            They went back and told Donna and Sara what they saw.  Oliver held on to what the nurse had told him about Felicity handling the surgery well.  He held onto this until fifteen minutes or so later when Dr. Stone came over and told them that the surgery had been successful and he thought they had removed most, if not all, of the cancer.

            “She’s awake now,” Dr. Stone said.  “You all can head to her room when you’re ready.”

            “We’re ready now,” Donna said.  “Show us the way!”

            Dr. Stone laughed and said, “Of course.  I’d be happy to take you to her.”

            They followed him down the hallway, the mood significantly lighter as they all thought that at least one milestone had passed.  When they walked in Felicity smiled weakly at them.

            “Hi guys,” she said.

            Donna went first, kissing her on the cheek and then Tommy and Sara went over to her. Oliver was last, his control slipping as he pressed his forehead against hers.

            “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said, hands grasping his face.  “It’s okay.”

            “I love you, Felicity,” he said, kissing her softly.  “I love you so much.”

            “I love you, too.”

            Her body felt spent and she had a mild headache, but Felicity couldn’t help but feel happy.  The tumor was out of her. She didn’t know if it was the end – she didn’t dare hope that it was – but it was a start.

           


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

            Dr. Stone’s office had become a place that held equal measures of both fear and hope for Felicity.   On the one hand it was the place where her treatment began, but it was also where she was diagnosed.  It was where she’d felt her stomach drop so swiftly that it felt like it was filled with stones, and also when her heart had jumped into her throat at the prospect of remission.

            Her and Oliver were facing the latter at this particular visit.  The results were in from the surgery, and both were hoping for a clean bill of health. Dr. Stone looked positive enough when he settled down across from them, opening up Felicity’s medical record.

            “How are you both today?” he asked.

            “Nervous,” Felicity said. “Today’s the day, right? The day this could all be over. Or not over.  But, we’re managing.”  She looked over at Oliver with a tight smile..  “We’re managing, aren’t we?”

            He nodded stiffly. “Definitely.”

            “Well, let’s get straight to the results,” Dr. Stone said.  “I am happy to report that we were able to get the entire tumor out.”

            “That’s fantastic,” Felicity breathed out, grasping Oliver’s hand tightly.  “So, it’s all gone then?  The cancer is gone?”

            “Yes,” he said with a nod, and she felt her heart beat madly against her chest.  It was over.  This nightmare was finally over.  And then he continued talking.

            “But, one of the lymph nodes that we tested did come back as positive.”

            Felicity blinked rapidly, trying to process what he just said.  Because, before, he had told her the cancer was all gone, but now it wasn’t?

            “I thought you said the cancer was gone,” she stammered. “That-that’s what you said.” She looked over at Oliver. “That’s what he said, isn’t it?”

            Oliver squeezed her hand. “What does the positive result mean?”

            “It means that the cancer has spread to Felicity’s lymph node system,” Dr. Stone explained in a level voice. “We’d thought this was a possibility, but you never can be sure.”

            “It’s not gone,” Felicity murmured, tears springing to her eyes.  The end had been so near, only to be brutally ripped form her at the last moment.

            “The cancer is completely gone from your breast,” Dr. Stone reminded her.  “The tumor has been removed.  That is positive.”

            “But, I still have cancer,” she said numbly.  When he nodded she reached up and wiped at her eye, not wanting to cry in front of him. Oliver kept his strong grasp on her hand and she squeezed back, the touch of his skin against hers the only thing keeping her from completely losing control.

            “The good thing is that we caught this early,” Dr. Stone explained.  “Your chance of remission is extremely high if you get the right treatment, and you begin it soon.”

            “What is that treatment?” Oliver asked.

            “I would recommend aggressive chemotherapy,” Dr. Stone said.  “It’s not the most comfortable option, but I believe it will lead to the best outcome.”

            Oliver nodded, glancing over at Felicity.  Her gaze was somewhere to the left of Dr. Stone, her mouth set in a grimace.

            “Felicity, what do you think?” he asked gently.

            “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I guess whatever Dr. Stone thinks is best is what I’ll go with.”

            “There are other options,” he said.  “I can discuss them with you, but –“

            She shook her head and interrupted him with, “I want this out of me.  So, whatever will make that happen the quickest, that is what I want. I want this out of my body.”

            Dr. Stone nodded. “Okay, then I will talk with your oncologist and get you set up for chemotherapy.”  He made a notation in her chart and then looked up at them again.   “I will tell you that chemotherapy is an incredible drain on the body.  You’ll feel exhausted and it’s likely you will get flu symptoms from it.”

            “None of this has been easy,” she said in a low voice.  “If chemotherapy is what will fight this cancer best, then that’s what I want. I don’t care about the side effects.”

            “I am going to recommend that you start the end of this week,” Dr. Stone said.  “It’s important that you begin the chemotherapy as soon as possible.”

            She nodded. “Whenever you can get me in I’ll be there.”

 

* * *

 

 

            When she got back to her apartment with Oliver they sat on her couch in silence, both of them digesting what Dr. Stone had told them.  Felicity had really thought it was over.  Sitting in that office with its white washed walls and placid ocean pictures, she had really thought this nightmare had come to a close.  She could move on, cancer free, and get back to her life.

            “I really thought this was over,” she murmured.  “I wanted it to be so badly.”

            Oliver put his hand on her knee.  “I know.”

            “I feel like I should be crying,” she said after a moment, face turning toward Oliver. “This is the sort of thing you cry over, right?”

            “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he told her. 

            “I don’t want to cry,” she answered, shaking her head.  “But…I feel like that’s what people do when they get bad news.  That’s how they cope.  I need to cope.”

            Oliver slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.  “You cope however you want.”

            “Will you come with me?” she asked, glancing over at him.  “To the chemotherapy?”

            “Of course I will.”

            “It sounds so boring,” she said.  “Just hours of sitting there with poison going into your arm.”

            “I’ll bring my iPad. We can catch up on Walking Dead.”

            She smiled a bit and told him, “I don’t think we can watch TV in there.”

            “Why not?”

            “There are other patients,” she reminded him.  “I don’t want to be distracting my first day there.”

            “I’ll bring headphones. We can share them. Think how romantic that will be.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Oh, how romantic.”

            “Damn right it is,” he said with a perfunctory nod.  “But, if you don’t want to do that we can bring other things.  Books.  Board games.”

            “Board games?”

            “Yeah, I bet we could get a good Game of Life round done while we’re there.”

            “Isn’t it a little ironic to play the Game of Life when you’re getting chemotherapy?” she proposed.

            He shrugged. “I guess.  I just know that’s your favorite game.”

            “Yeah,” she said softly. “It is.”

            “I’m partial to Monopoly myself,” he said.  “But I know you think I get too competitive with it.”

            “That’s because you do. I’ve seen you and Tommy get into shouting matches during games.”

            “They were not shouting matches,” he corrected lightly.  “They were…strongly worded conversations.”

            She snorted. “Yeah, strongly worded conversations with outside voices.”

            He laughed at that and she yawned, turning in toward him and sliding her hand along his torso. She tucked her head against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. 

            “So, I think we should talk more about the chemotherapy,” he said after a beat.  “Dr. Stone said how draining it is, and I don’t really like the idea of you being here by yourself afterwards.”

            “Okay,” she said warily.

            “I’m afraid that if you’re here by yourself something could happen.”

            She nodded. “What do we want to do, then? Before you even think about it, I’m not staying with you and Tommy.”     

            “That wasn’t what I was thinking,” he said.  “What if I stay here?”

            “You stay here?” she repeated.

            “I’m already practically here half the week,” he said.  “I’ll move in just until you get settled with the chemotherapy.  Then we can reevaluate from there.”

            “Moving in, huh?” she said with feigned lightness.  “That’s a pretty big step.”

            “I love you, Felicity,” he said, reaching up and farming her face with his hands. “Moving in is nothing. And, besides, you need someone here with you after your chemotherapy, and I want that someone to be me.”

            “It’s a good thing my mom went back,” she said.  “You’d have to fight her, otherwise.”

            Donna left a few days after the surgery, her work not allowing her to take anymore time off. Donna had wanted to stay, saying to hell with the work, but Felicity didn’t want her to get in trouble at work. She promised to call Donna the moment they had news.

            “She’s a worthy opponent,” he said.  “What are you going to tell her, by the way?”

            Felicity was silent for a moment.

            “I’m going to tell her the cancer is gone.” 

            “Felicity –“

            “If I tell her the truth she’ll come out here and she won’t leave.  She’ll lose her job.  I can’t let that happen. She won’t admit it, but I know with that job she’s barely paying her bills.  I won’t put this on her.”

            “She has a right to know,” he said gently.

            “And I have a right to handle this the way I want to,” she returned pragmatically.  “Please don’t tell her anything.”

            “I won’t,” he promised. “I just…if anything were to happen, I don’t want you to look back on this and regret it.”

            “I won’t,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity asked to spend the night alone, and so Oliver trudged reluctantly back to his apartment, finding Tommy and Sara playing videogames in the living room.  Oliver walked over to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer from the refrigerator.  He heard the television pause behind him.

            “Hey, how was the visit?” Tommy asked.  “Good news? Please say good news.”

            Oliver walked over and sat down on the edge of the couch, taking a pull from his beer. Tommy watched him anxiously and said, “You’re not saying anything.  That’s bad. That has to be bad.”

            “Just give him a second,” Sara said.

            “The cancer is out of her breast,” Oliver said in a clinical tone.  “However, the cancer has spread to her lymph node system.”

            “Fuck,” Tommy breathed out.

            “But, we have a plan in place. She’s starting chemotherapy on Thursday –“

            “She’s doing chemotherapy?” Tommy interrupted loudly.  “So, she’s going to lose her hair and stuff?”

            Oliver blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. Probably.”

            “How is she doing?” Sara asked. 

            “She’s upset,” Oliver admitted. “Both of us really thought this was going to be it.  We get the tumor out, and it’s over.  But, there is still a long way to go.”

            “No offense, man, but why are you here?”  Tommy asked. “Shouldn’t you be with Felicity?”

            “I want to be,” Oliver said.   “But she kicked me out.”

            “She what?”

            “She said she wanted to be alone.  I tried to talk her out of it, but…” he finished with a shrug and then took another pull from his beer.

            “You can’t change how people deal with things,” Sara said.  “Sometimes you just need to be alone.  She’ll come around.”

            “I know,” Oliver said.

            “I wonder what she’s doing on her own,” Tommy murmured.

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity laid in bed with an absolute cornucopia of junk food.  After Oliver left she went to the grocery store and bought every type of candy, chips, pretzels, and ice cream that caught her eye. It was a ridiculous amount of food for one person, but she didn’t care.  For all she knew she wouldn’t be alive the next month, so she was going to make sure she enjoyed this one in full.

            Netflix blared on her computer, one of David Tennant’s early Doctor Who episodes playing. She followed the storyline in complete rapture, popping chips into her mouth at a rapid fire pace.

            By the fourth episode she’d made a sizeable dent into her junk food stash, and was paying the ultimate cost. Her stomach churned and she crouched over the toilet, emptying her stomach into the porcelain bowl. The sheer force of the retching made her cry, and then once she started she couldn’t stop.  The sobs were brutal and gasping, cramping her stomach and straining her throat.  She didn’t know before that it was possible to become so consumed with pain.  It radiated through her body, all the way from her forehead to her toes.

            Somehow, she made it back to her bed and she called Oliver.  He picked up after one ring, and she could hear Tommy and Sara in the background.

            “Felicity?”

            “Come back,” she stammered, her throat raw.  “Please come back.”

            Oliver’s answer was immediate.

            “I’ll be right there.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “What is it?” Tommy asked hurriedly, standing up as Oliver rushed to grab his coat.

            “It’s Felicity. She needs me to go back to her apartment.”

            “Is she okay? Did she say anything?”

            “I don’t know,” Oliver said tensely.  “She just said come back. I’m guessing she’s not okay. I –“

            “Go,” Sara said, standing up and taking Tommy’s arm.  “We’ll be here if you need anything.”

            Oliver nodded, pulling on his coat and heading out the apartment.  When he reached the door Tommy called out for him.

            “Yeah?” he said, glancing back at Tommy.

            “Just..,tell her I love her, okay?”

            Oliver nodded stiffly. “I will.  I’ll talk to you guys soon.”

            “Bye Oliver.”

            He rushed out to his car and then headed toward her apartment, catching red light after red light. He caught lights where he didn’t even remember there being any.  Finally, he got to her apartment and he took the steps two at a time, imagining the worst.  Her door was open and she walked in, locking it behind him.  He found her in her bedroom, where she was curled up in her bed with a mess of wrappers on the floor.

            “Felicity?”

            She turned back toward him, cheeks stained with tears. 

            “I finally cried,” she murmured.

            “I can see that,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and then taking off his shoes.  He got under the covers with her, slipping his hand around her waist.  “Do you feel better?”

            “I do,” she admitted. “I feel like I got it out of my system. Now I don’t have to do it until…well, probably sometime tomorrow.”

            “Why tomorrow?”

            “It’ll be the day before chemotherapy,” she said blandly.  “And then there will be the day of chemotherapy.  And whatever the hell comes after.”

            “We’ll deal with it,” he said. “We’ll deal with all of it.”

            “Thank you for coming here after I kicked you out,” she murmured.

            “You did sort of kick me out,” he said, kissing her neck.  “But, I’m happy to be back.  Your bed is much more comfortable than mine.”

            “I know for a fact that is a lie,” she returned softly. 

            “By the way, Tommy wanted me to tell you that he loves you.”

            “He did? My call must have really freaked him out.”

            “He was moderately freaked,” Oliver admitted.  “We all were.”

            “I’m sorry for putting you all through this,” she said. 

            “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault, Felicity. You didn’t make this happen. It’s a shit turn of luck, that’s all.”

            “That’s one way to put it.”

            “We all are choosing to go through this with you,” he said.  “And I can’t speak for Tommy and Sara – although I doubt their answer would differ much from mine – but I’d choose to go through it with you every time. We’re a team, Felicity. This doesn’t’ change that.”

            “I just want it to be Thursday,” she said.  “I want to get it over with.”

            He tightened his grip on her. “It’ll be here before you know it.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Thursday.

            Oliver drove Felicity to the hospital, holding a largely one-sided conversation as he pulled from one street to another.  Felicity tried to engage in the conversation, but her heart wasn’t in it.  Instead, she kept glancing at her right arm, imagining a the thin tube at the fold of her arm.

            They were a few minutes early, which left Oliver time to go through the list he’d drafted of everything they needed for the session.  They had a selection of magazines.  A book. His iPad – which Felicity had nixed, but he brought in case she changed her mind.  Banangrams.  And a blanket that Dr. Stone had advised them to bring.

            “Alright, I think we have everything,”  Oliver said. “Are you ready?”

            Felicity nodded, feeling her nerves mix with a certain sense of relief.  This was what she’d been dreading all week, and soon it would be over.

            “Let’s go.”

            They walked into the hospital and went over to the room that administered chemotherapy. A nurse with dark skin welcomed them with a warm smile.  Felicity gave her name, and the nurse looked through the schedule.

            “Yes, you are right on time.“ She glanced over at Oliver. “I see you brought yourself some entertainment.”

            “Oh, yeah. Just some magazines and stuff. Nothing too distracting for the other patients.”

            The nurse nodded. “I see all of that. But, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

            She sent Felicity a wink and Felicity found herself with a surprisingly genuine grin taking over her face.  She took Oliver’s hand and said, “He’s pretty entertaining, too.”

            “I bet. Alright, I’ll get you situated over at your seat,”  the nurse said, taking Oliver and Felicity over to a far chair.  Felicity saw that the word seat was not a proper descriptor for the setup they had. It was more of a recliner, with deceptively plush looking cushions.  She sat down, wiggling around a bit before finding a comfortable place.

            Another nurse came over and helped set her up with the actual chemotherapy.  They had trouble locating a vein, but then with the aid of a butterfly needle were able to get her tapped into the IV.  Felicity watched the yellow liquid pass through the slim tube and then into her vein.

            “There you go,” the nurse said. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so to check on you. Do you need anything right now?’

            Felicity shook her head, unable to pull her gaze from the tube.  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

            The nurse walked away and Oliver gently went, “Felicity, stop looking at it.”

            “I can’t. It’s going into me. That…stuff is going into me.”          

            “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, grasping her free hand. 

            “I know,” she said, finally looking at him.  “It is okay. It’s good, even.”

            “It is?”

            She nodded, feeling a sudden lightness in her chest.  Before this moment, she honestly didn’t know if she could get through this. But for some reason, sitting with chemicals flowing into her vein, she knew she could fight. It wouldn’t be easy, but she was ready. She’d spent enough time being scared and angry.  She was done with being the victim.  She was ready to fight.  

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

         Chapter Twenty  

Felicity stood in front of the mirror, applying eyeliner with careful precision. Her hand still shook, though, making her winged eyeliner look more like an EKG reading.  The tremors started the night before – a side effect of exhaustion, she’d read online – and no amount of determination could stave them off. Luckily, this little misstep could be remedied with just a dab of water.  She decided against the eyeliner and curled her eyelashes, finishing her eyes of with a quick swipe of mascara.  Lipstick was last – a cheery pink to hopefully draw attention from the dark bags under eyes – and then she was ready for work.

            She walked out of her bedroom, Oliver’s disapproving form sitting at the kitchen table.  He went to say something, but she held up her hand and said, “No.  I don’t want to hear it.”

            He frowned and tried, “Felicity, you –“

            “Ah!” she said sharply, stopping in front of the refrigerator and turning back to him with a grim look.  “I’m starting to hear it.  And I don’t want to hear it, remember?  Not a word.”

            “So, what, I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend I’m okay with this?”

            “Yes,” she said succinctly, turning toward the toaster and popping two waffles into it.  “That is exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

            “You were up half the night sick,” he argued.  “And Dr. Stone said that you shouldn’t work yourself too hard –“

            “I’m not working myself too hard,” Felicity said, turning around and leaning against the counter.  It felt nice to have something sturdy behind her.  “I’m working myself just enough.”

            She knew this wasn’t going to be an easy battle.  Going back to work days after starting chemotherapy was probably not normal, but none of this was.  Getting cancer at her age with no family history wasn’t normal. Going bald in a few weeks sure as hell wouldn’t be normal, either.  The only way that she could make sense of what was happening with her was to try to hold onto some semblance of normalcy in all of the chaos. So, she would go to work. It wasn’t like her job was particularly taxing, anyway.  She’d be sitting at a desk all day. 

            “What if you get sick there?” Oliver pressed.

            The waffles popped out of the toaster oven and she pulled them out, swearing under her breath as the pastries burned her fingertips.

            “I thought we weren’t talking about this,” she said, taking a napkin and grasping the waffles with them. 

            “No, you aren’t talking about this,” he said.  “I am.  You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

            “I will be taking it easy,” she said.  “I’m at a desk all day.”

            “You shouldn’t be driving,” he pointed out.  “What about that?”

            “Sara’s picking me up,” Felicity said easily.  She took a bite of her waffle, ignoring the crestfallen look on his face.  The driving argument was one of his strongest.  Naturally, she’d known that and made arrangements.

            “She is?”

            “Contrary to what you might believe, I thought this through,” Felicity said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  She went over to the table and sat next to him.  “I know my limits, and I can handle this.  I need you trust me, Oliver.”

            “I do,” he relented.  “I just don’t want you to do something that will set you back.”

            “I already have cancer,” she returned with a sad smile.  “How much further back can I set myself?”

            “I still think you should stay home,” he said in a soft voice. “We can watch old _Boy Meets World_ reruns.  Eat all of your ice cream.”

            “I thought I was supposed to be eating healthier.”

            “One of them is strawberry.  You’ll get your daily serving of fruit.”

            She smiled sadly, scooting forward and taking a hold of his face. She leaned in until their foreheads touched. 

“I can’t stay here. I need to get on with my life. Because, as much as both of us don’t want to admit it, I might not have a whole lot left.  I don’t want to spend the rest of it hiding and afraid.”

“You have a lot left,” he said firmly, tilting his face so that his lips pressed against hers. She kissed him back softly, feeling the tiniest urge to just give in and stay with him.  It was so easy to lose herself in him, in his warm mouth and crewneck sweaters. But, she couldn’t let that happen. Not now.  Especially not now.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, Sara’s message flashing on the screen.

“I have to go,” Felicity murmured, pulling away from him.  “Sara is here.”

“Promise me you will take it slow today.  Don’t push yourself.”

“I won’t,” she said, standing up.  The sudden movement made her head spin and she grasped the top of the chair tightly, bile churning in her stomach.

“Felicity?”

“I’m fine,” she said, swallowing hard.  She forced herself to let go of the chair, although she didn’t feel entirely sturdy. Any true show of weakness, though, and she knew Oliver would never let her leave.

“Are you sure? You –“

“I love you,” she said, forcing herself forward and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “But one of us has to go to work. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.  I’ll see you tonight.”

She left the apartment, her nausea gripping her with such fervor that she had to stop for a moment due to the very real possibility of her getting sick all over herself. Eyes squeezed shut she murmured, “You can do this.  You can do this, Felicity. You _can_ do this.”

Mantra repeated over and over in her mind like a prayer, she stood up straight and walked out of the building.  Sara’s car was parked right out front, its blonde driver looking at her warily.

“Not you, too,” Felicity said after strapping her seatbelt.

“You look like death.”

“Well, thank you,” she said unhappily.  She hadn’t expected Sara to sugar coat the situation – she never did – but she figured she’d have a bit more sympathy than this.

“It’s the truth. Why are you doing this again?”

“Everything just doesn’t stop because I’m sick,” Felicity said.  “I don’t want it to.  So, the best thing that I can do for myself is get back into my old routine.”

“I get that. But, you couldn’t even give yourself a few days to acclimate to chemotherapy?”

“I’m acclimated,” Felicity said, although her voice was unconvincing even to her ears. She had been up all night sick, and her stomach wasn’t exactly friendly right then.  But, she’d manage.  She could be sick in the company bathroom just as easily as she could be sick at home.

“Alright, you probably don’t need to hear this, but I’m saying it anyway,” Sara said as she pulled up to Merlyn Global.  “If you need anything, you call me.  I will have my phone close, and frankly, sort of be expecting your call.”

“I’m fine,” Felicity said pointedly.  “But, thank you. You’re a good friend.”

“Make sure to eat a good lunch,” Sara told her.  “And drink a lot of water.  Hydration is important.”

“I know. I will do both.”

“Alright, good luck in there.”

She climbed out of the car and made her way into the building.  The momentary fresh air felt good, and a sort of invigoration seemed to course through her veins as she stepped into the building.  The security guard Hal nodded at her – like he did every morning – and she swiped her ID card, thinking to herself that she was right. This was exactly what she needed. Some routine.

The elevator bay was filled with bodies, and when an elevator finally pinged open on the ground floor, they all tried to pack themselves onto it.  Felicity got on last, just squeezing on.  The doors closed and the closeness weighed uncomfortably on her chest. She tried to find some space, but just kept knocking into elbows and briefcases.

“I’m sorry,’ she stammered, feeling her cheeks burn.  It was always this crowded, but it had never bothered her before.  Now, she felt like crawling out of her skin. It was a relief when her floor came and she stepped off, taking one big inhale as she enjoyed the open space.

She said hello to her coworkers as she made her way to her desk.  None of them knew about her diagnosis, and it was nice in a way. Normal, again. No one looked at her like she was broken. In fact, no one really looked at her at all.  They were working, too engrossed in their own work to pay her more than the cursory good morning. It was incredibly liberating.

Felicity settled at her desk and set to work, a sense of calm settling on her for the first time in weeks. She dutifully sipped at her water, like she’d promised Sara, and at 10:00 ate a granola bar.  Everything was going well.

Until it wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

“Topanga really grew into her hotness,” Tommy said, reaching into the bag of Doritos and pulling out a handful.  Him and Oliver were hunched over on Felicity’s couch, feet propped up on the coffee table while they watched _Boy Meets World_ reruns. “Like, middle school Tommy would not have gone for middle school Topanga. But, high school Topanga? One hundred percent.”

“What about college Topanga?” Oliver asked.

“Is that even a question?”

Oliver chuckled. “I guess not.”

“Also, for the record, I would go for Mrs. Matthews.  Anyone who wears mom jeans that well deserves admiration.”

Oliver glanced at his watch, thinking about Felicity and how this would be her usual lunchtime at work.

“Is your silence disapproval?” Tommy asked.

“No, I’m just thinking about Felicity.  It’s about her lunch time now.  I wonder how she is.”

“If something happened you’d know,” Tommy said.

“Would I? Part of me thinks she’d hide it just so I wouldn’t be right.”

Tommy snorted. “That’s definitely Felicity. But not with this. If something happens, she’ll call you.”

“I hope.”

“I’m still surprised you let her go this morning.”

“It’s not really my choice,” Oliver said.  “I told her how I felt about it, my concerns and all.  But in the end, only she knows how she feels.  She knows her limits better than anyone.  I just hope she respects them.”

“I asked my dad to check in on her this afternoon.  He’s out of the office in the morning – he told me his schedule with excruciating detail – but this afternoon he’ll be in to make sure things are good.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you talking to him.”

“We all want her to do well, man,” Tommy said with a shrug.  “She’s family.”

Oliver nodded, mind drifting off somewhere.  Tommy said something, but he missed it entirely.

“Sorry, what?” Oliver said.

“I said I was just thinking about when she moved here.  So much has changed.”

“Yeah, it has.”

“She hated you, for starters,” Tommy said.  “Man, I remember how pissed off she looked at Verdant when I introduced you guys.”

“I did steal her cab,” Oliver said, grinning at the memory.  It was a pretty shit thing to do, but he’d always sort of been grateful he had. While he knew that she would have come into his life anyway because of Tommy, that first meeting still held a special place in Oliver’s heart.  It was memorable, even without everything that happened after, but that shouldn’t be surprising.  Everything about her was memorable.  At least to him.

            “I’m glad you guys found each other,” Tommy said after a moment. “You’re really good to her. Seeing you with all of this stuff happening, I’m glad she has someone like you.”

            “You’re there for her, too.”

            “It’s not the same.  Lately, you walk into a room and it’s like she can breath again.  She needs you.  Which is pretty remarkable, because that girl has never needed anyone.”

            “I need her, too,” Oliver murmured.  “More than she knows.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The bathroom tiles were cool beneath her cheek.  It helped with the stinging from where her cheek crashed into the side of the toilet seat.  Dried vomit caked her mouth, and although she couldn’t see it, she knew there were specks of it on the bodice of her favorite dress.

            It came out of nowhere.  She was feeling okay – not great, but not awful either – when a wave of nausea hit her so fiercely that she barely made it to the bathroom before her body rejected everything she’d put into it that day. 

            When she’d finished she’d tried to stand up, but her legs were too weak and she fell back to the ground, her cheek smacking the toilet seat on the way down. She was too weak to even pull herself into a seated position, her body refusing to do what she begged it to. Just sit up, she pleaded with herself. Sit up, and then maybe you can stand and get yourself back to your desk and count the hours until five o’clock.

            But, she couldn’t sit.  She was too weak to even cry, although the tears still dropped down her cheek, over the bridge of her nose.  She didn’t know how long it was before someone came into the bathroom, but their reaction was immediate. It ended up being her friend Tabitha, who immediately dropped to her knees beside Felicity and breathed out, “What happened?”

            Felicity tried to talk but even that seemed to take too much effort, and she was starting to smell her vomit on herself, and all of this was too much. She should have stayed home. She should have been home on her couch, watching television with Oliver.  Pushing herself to go to work had been a stupid idea.  The stupidest.  She just wanted things to be normal again, but they weren’t.  Pretending wouldn’t change that.

            Tabitha had gone over to the sink and wet a paper towel with some water. She kneeled next to Felicity again and gently dabbed around her mouth, and then worked on her dress.

            “We should call an ambulance,” Tabitha said.

            “No,” Felicity said, finding her voice.  “Call Oliver.”

            “What? Felicity, you passed out on the bathroom floor.  This is serious. You need to go the hospital.”

            “No, it’s…” she trailed off, moistening her dry lips.  “It’s the chemotherapy.  That’s all.  It’s my chemotherapy.”

            Tabitha stared at her, mouth dropped open in surprise.  Felicity hadn’t told anyone at work, save for Malcolm who found out through Tommy.  She’d begged him not to tell anyone else, wanting to keep it private.

            “Your chemotherapy?  Oh my God, Felicity…”

            “I’m fine,” Felicity said weakly.  “Really, I’m –“

            “You’re sprawled out on the bathroom floor,” Tabitha said, voice wavering. “That’s not fine.”

            “Then help me up,” Felicity said.  “I feel a bit better now.  I think I should be able to stand.”

            Tabitha hesitated before slipping an arm around Felicity’s waist. She teetered on her stilletos as she helped Felicity up.  Felicity leaned heavily on her friend – but as Felicity had learned over the past few weeks, her friends could handle it.  Tabitha tightened her hold on Felicity’s waist, helping her move forward.

            They got some looks in the office – the few stragglers during lunch alarmed at her appearance – but Tabitha in her usual blunt manner told them, “Nothing to see here.  She just ate some bad shrimp.”

            “I’m allergic to shrimp,” Felicity said under her breath.

            “They don’t know that.”

            Tabitha helped her gather her things and then brought her downstairs to wait for Oliver.  She made the call for Felicity, watching her friend anxiously as she leaned her head against the glass window, eyes shut and breathed slowly.

            “You okay?”  Tabitha asked.

            “I’m an idiot,” Felicity said.  “And exhausted.  I’m an exhausted idiot. Who, for the record, should not be here.”

            Tabitha sat down next to her.

            “So, what is it?”  she asked cautiously.

            “Breast cancer,” Felicity said, opening her eyes.

            “Shit,” Tabitha breathed out.

            “And it’s spread to my lymph node system.  That’s why I’m getting chemotherapy.”

            “ _Shit_.”

            Felicity smiled slightly.  “Is that all you know how to say?”

            “In this situation, yes.”

            Felicity pulled her head forward from the window.  “It’s okay.  I mean, it’s not.  But, I’m managing. Sometimes not in the best ways, but…I’m managing.”

            “Can I say something?”

            “Are you going to say shit again?”

            Tabitha smirked.  “No, I’m not.”

            “Then yes.  You can.”

            “I think you are incredibly brave.  I mean it.  You’re going through something so difficult, and you’re here.”

            “I shouldn’t be.”

            ‘But you tried.  You’re not letting this define you, and I think that’s tremendously brave.”

            Felicity felt tears spring to her eyes, not for the first time and likely not for the last, and she said, “Thank you.”

            “But, if I see you here even once the rest of this week I am personally hauling your ass back home.”

            “Don’t worry.  I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

            Tabitha stayed with her until Oliver came, and then she went back upstairs, giving Felicity a quick hug before departing.  Although Felicity and Oliver were in a crowded lobby, the deep concerned look in his eyes made her feel like they were in a world all their own. She stepped forward into his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest.

            “I should have listened to you,” she murmured.

            “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

            “Today was a disaster,” she said.  “I collapsed in the bathroom.”

            He pulled back, fingers gingerly brushing the bruise on her cheekbone. After a moment he leaned in and tenderly kissed the bruise.

            “Let’s go home.”


	21. Chapter Twenty One

           Chapter Twenty One

Felicity stood in front of the mirror, slowly running her hands along the smooth skin of her head.  Blonde hair littered the sink, a few errant strands strewn on the floor like ribbons. It went remarkably fast. She’d thought it would be difficult – shaving off all of your hair – but once she started up Oliver’s shaver it only took four or five minutes before her entire head was bare. It’d take years for it to grow back, if it even did.

            She leaned forward, hands travelling down to her cheeks as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.  Logically, she knew this person staring at her from inside the mirror was herself. It smiled when she smiled. It turned its head when she turned hers. Yet, she recognized nothing of herself in her reflection.  It was a stranger with pallid skin and a strangely bumpy head. 

            She moved her hands back up to her head, feeling the foreign slopes as she explored skin she never had the misfortune of encountering before. She decided this was an experience she could have gone without.  Oliver stepped into the bathroom and she nodded at him in the mirror, sending him an anxious smile that hedged more toward a grimace than anything else. He slid his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her bare temple.  She covered her hands with his, taking some comfort in the familiar roughness of his hands.

            “Are you okay?” he asked.

            She nodded, eyes trying to meet his in the mirror but returning to her own reflection. Every time she blinked she kept expecting to see herself again.  Not the person she was five minutes ago, but five weeks.  Her pre-cancer self.  Someone who seemed even more foreign to her than the reflection in the mirror.

            “Are you really okay?”

            “Would it make a difference if I wasn’t?” she asked.

            “Yes,” he said emphatically, tightening his hold on her waist. “It would to me.”

            She took a deep breath.  “I’m fine. I just…” she gestured at the mirror, “…it doesn’t look like me.  _I_ don’t look like me. It’s a lot to adjust to.”

            “I think you look beautiful,” he said.

            She laughed humorlessly.  “Um, I look like an old man.  So, don’t even try that.”

            “You don’t know.  Maybe old men is my type,” he returned with a remarkably straight face.

            She laughed, and it was such a great feeling that she actually found herself breathless from the pure joy.  It had been so long since she’d truly laughed.  Leaning back against him, she murmured, ‘Thank you for that.  Although, it should be noted that you basically conceded that I look like an old man.”

            He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I think that you are absolutely stunning.  But, I always think that. You are beautiful, and I count myself as a very lucky man to be able to stand in your bathroom and tell you that.”

            She slid her arms along his, taking a moment to enjoy the pure joy in the feeling of his strong body against hers.  “I love you.”

            He kissed the side of his head.  “I love you, too.  Also, I’m making pancakes.”

            “Chocolate chip?” she asked.

            “With whipped cream.  We’re celebrating.”

            “Celebrating what?” she asked, looking up at him.

            “It’s one month since you started chemotherapy,” he told her. “And, that means you only have another two months left.  Even less, maybe, depending on how your scan is this week.”

            “I’m glad one of us is keeping track,” she said.  “I think I’ve actually mentally blocked out my going there.”

            “You’re the one with the needle in her arm, so I think you get to do that,” he said. “It was written in small print on your last bill.”

            “Oh really.  I must have missed that.”

            He took a hold of her chin and tilted her mouth up to meet his. “Okay, I need to go make you pancakes.”

            She nodded.  “I’ll clean up in here and then meet you in the kitchen.”

            She watched him walk out of the bathroom, following his movement in the mirror. Alone, her gaze shifted back to herself. Taking a deep breath she leaned in toward the mirror until her nose touched the cool surface.  Her eyes bore into her own, and she could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and a stray hair just under her eyebrow that she’d failed to pluck the day prior.  She blinked once, twice, waiting for the reflection to mess up.

            “Felicity!”

            Oliver’s voice pulled her away from her lunacy and she sprung back from the mirror, nearly knocking down the razor.  “Yeah?”

            “You want coffee, right?”

            “Yeah. Sounds good!”

            She reached down into the sink and grabbed a fistful of her hair.

 

* * *

 

 

            One plate of pancakes, two cups of coffee, and a full workday behind her Felicity sat at the local diner, waiting for Sara to arrive.  She fiddled around with the scarf wrapped around her head, convinced that everyone was looking at her, when in fact it was only a little girl one table over who had already explained her attention with a loud, “Can I wear a scarf on my head like that lady, Mommy?”

            The mother had quietly scolded her daughter while sending Felicity an apologetic glance.  Felicity sent back a tight smile, covering up her discomfort with a large gulp of her soda. She perked up when Sara arrived, and she gave her a small wave.  Sara sat opposite her and went, “Whoah, so you did it.”

            Felicity frowned.  “Hello to you, too.”

            “I think it’s brave,”  Sara said definitively.  “Bite the bullet, you know?  It looks good. The scarf, I mean.”

            “Thanks.”

            Sara glanced over at the table with the little girl and asked, “Why is that little girl staring at you?”

            “She likes my head scarf,” Felicity returned drily.

            “Oh, of course.  So, how was it?”

            Felicity had to admit that there was something refreshing about Sara asking her so bluntly about it all.  Lately, everyone seemed to tiptoe around her, but not Sara. 

            “I thought the actual shaving would be difficult, but it wasn’t. It’s the after part that I’m having difficulty with.  It’s just…I don’t feel like me.  I know it’s vain to miss your hair, but I do.”

            “I get it,” Sara said, nodding.  “You go around your whole life having hair and then suddenly you don’t. It’s rough.”

            “Thank you,”  Felicity breathed out. “It sounded so stupid in my head, but when you say it all it actually sounds rational.”

            “You can get a wig, you know.”

            Felicity scrunched her nose.  “I don’t think so.  I always think of that episode of _Sex and The City_ where Samantha’s sweating bullets in one, and she takes her wig off at that benefit for breast cancer, and then all the women there take off their wigs –“

            “Why would you think of that?”  Sara interrupted.

            “I don’t know.  I don’t choose what I think about.  If I could, I wouldn’t have wasted so many brain cells on trying to tell the Kardashians apart.

            Sara snorted.  “You should go wig shopping.  Just try it.”

            “I don’t know…”

            “I’ll take you,”  Sara offered. “There’s actually one right by my place. I don’t know how good the wigs are, but there’s bound to be something not awful there.”

            “Not awful?  That’s what we’re going for?”

            “I like to set my bar low,”  Sara returned sagely.  “There are more chances to be pleasantly surprised then.”

            “Okay,” Felicity sighed. “I guess we can go. But only the two of us. If we take Tommy he’ll end up picking out my wig, and it’ll probably be purple.”

            “You have so little faith in your cousin,”  Sara chided.  “He obviously would pick out a red one like in _Alias_.”

            Felicity grinned.  “I always did want to be Sydney Bristow.”

            “There you go,” Sara said, slapping her hand lightly on the table. “This is your chance.”

            Felicity took a sip of her soda, imagining herself in a chic fruit punch red wig. She’d never actually do it, but she drew some thrill from the mere thought.

            “That little girl is staring again,” Sara said.  “If you ever wanted a minion to do your bidding, I think we found a candidate.”

            “A child is not a minion.”

            “So, wig shopping.  When is a good time? I’m thinking now.”

            “Now?” Felicity stammered. “But…”

            “There’s no time like the present.  Also, Tommy has decided to start trying to do home improvement projects in my apartment, which makes me want to be very far from my apartment.”

            Felicity smirked.  “So, this little errand is for your benefit?”

            “Yep,” Sara answered reasonably.  “Also, there’s usually a homeless guy out there around this time who I’m sure would be willing to give advice on how wigs look.”

            “Oh, well, then what are we still doing here?”

 

* * *

 

 

            They walked into the wig shop, Felicity’s eyes scanning the hodge podge of merchandise that was piled into the front of the store.  The back held the wigs, but the front catered to what Felicity could only surmise was the after-hours group.  One wall was lined with a variety of undergarments, the pictures on the packages looking like the something that belonged on a billboard back in Vegas.  There were thigh-high fishnets and a sheer bra crafted so flimsily made that Felicity wondered how it held anything at all.  Maybe it didn’t and that was the point.

            There was a collection of sex toys in one tidy aisle that made Felicity’s face turn pink.  She turned to Sara and whispered, “I thought you said this was a wig shop?”

            “It is,” Sara said, gesturing toward the back of the store. Felicity pointed furtively at the collection of dildos and Sara returned, “I never said it’s all they sold.”

            “I feel like I shouldn’t be here,” Felicity said uncomfortably.

            “Oh, relax.  You’re dating Oliver. I’m sure you’ve seen a lot worse than a dildo.”

            Felicity eyes went wide.  “What? We…no…that’s not true.”

            Sara smirked.  “Oh really?”

            “We tried _something_ once and I pulled something in a delicate area, so…no, we don’t.”

            Sara snorted, taking a hold of Felicity’s arm and pulling her to the back of the shop. 

            “Bringing you here was worth it just for that story.  Now, look around.  Does anything look good?”

            A salesperson walked over as Felicity nervously examined her options, none of them seeming too promising.

            “Hello, can I help you?” he asked.

            “I’m looking for a wig,” Felicity said.  “Obviously.  I mean, what else would I be doing back here with all the wigs?  Unless, I –“

            “She’s a blonde,” Sara interrupted.  “A bit darker than my color.  Long hair, if you have it.”

            The man nodded.  “Okay. We have a few that might work.”

            He flitted around the rows of model heads, stopping in front of some and examining them for a moment before shaking his head and moving on. Felicity watched with some trepidation as he pulled down a wig that she could only describe as pre- _Red_ Taylor Swift.

            “Okay, I think I have some good ones here,” he said.  He gestured toward a mirror set in the corner of the room and Felicity walked over, glancing back at him as he hurriedly dragged a chair over. She sat down, nodding appreciatively before reaching up and gingerly untying her scarf.  The baldness still startled her.  She licked her dry lips, avoiding catching her reflection again in the mirror.  Sara chose the first wig, tucking it on Felicity’s head.  It was scratchy, and noting Felciity’s discomfort the salesman said, “Wig cap should go on first.  It’ll help it fit better and it won’t be so scratchy.”

            They quickly switched out the wig for the wig cap and then tried the wig on again.  It wasn’t the Taylor Swift hair – thank goodness – but a long sleek look with a tone just a bit more muted than her own.

            “That’s not bad,”  Sara said, appraising her work in the mirror.  She tugged the wig to the side a bit to straighten it.  “What do you think, Felicity?”

            “I don’t like how straight it is,” she said, running her fingers along the hair. “I don’t usually wear my hair so straight.”

            “You can curl these,” the salesman piped in.  “Or make waves with a straightener.  Anything you could do to real hair.”

            Felicity nodded.  “How about we try another?”

            The next was wavier, with piecey bangs.  Again, it wasn’t her.  Neither was the next one with the Taylor Swift curls, or the one after that clearly took inspiration from Farrah Fawcett.

            “They’re just not me,” Felicity said, tugging the wig cap off. “I keep waiting to see my hair again, but I guess that’s not really possible, is it? None of these are my hair.”

            “Maybe that’s the problem,” Sara said. “We keep trying to get your hair back. Lets try something different.”

            Sara shot off toward the wigs and Felicity turned in the seat as she asked, “Like what?”

            “What is a look you’ve always wanted to try?”

            “A look?” she repeated, not understanding.

            “Yeah. What’s that hairstyle you’ve always wanted but you were too chicken to _actually_ go through with.”

            Felicity thought for a moment and said, “Well, I always have wondered what I would look like as a redhead.”  Remembering their last conversation she quickly supplied, “Not like in Alias. Not _actual_ red hair.  But, auburn. Something like that.”

            Sara nodded, already scanning the prop heads to find something promising. She grabbed a few and then walked back over.  The first was a spunky bob that Felicity liked, but didn’t love.  The next was too red.

            “I feel like Ariel,” Felicity said, laughing as Sara made a fish face behind her.

            The last one was a rich auburn with soft waves.  It was set in a side part, and when the hair brushed against her cheek as she tugged it on, it almost felt real.  When it was set, she looked at herself in the mirror and actually smiled. 

            “Well?” Sara asked expectantly, hands grasping the back of the chair.

            “I like it,”  Felicity admitted, leaning forward in the seat.  She turned her head back and forth, watching the hair swish around her face. It wasn’t her hair, but it made her feel like herself again. 

            “We just got that one in,” the salesman said, walking over to them with bottles of wig shampoo and wig conditioner.  “It looks good on you.  Very natural.”

            Without hesitation Felicity said, “I’ll take it.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Oliver was out late working at Verdant, so Felicity was home before him. She changed out of her work clothes and into one of the satin nightgowns she’d bought right when they started dating. She’d planned on using them for romantic nights, but in reality she always ended up sweatpants and a tank top. Comfort won out over sexiness.

            But tonight she wanted to feel sexy.  Her new hair emboldened her and she felt more sensual than she had in weeks. Her libido had taken a serious hit after the diagnosis, and then chemotherapy drained all of her energy, but tonight she felt different.  Tonight she was going to have sex with her boyfriend.

            She lit candles around the apartment and pulled out one of the old bottles of champagne she’d bought for Valentines Day but they never opened. She kept herself busy while she waited for him to get home, cleaning up around the apartment and primping. She played around with her makeup and curled the wig to get bouncier waves. 

            She could feel her energy flagging, but she was determined to not lose the momentum she’d built in his absence.  It had been weeks since her and Oliver had sex, and dammit, that streak was ending tonight. She was draining her first flute of champagne when she heard his key in the door.  He walked in, murmuring something about being late when he stopped suddenly, his eyes trained on her.  She had positioned herself in front of the counter, body curved and champagne flute held delicately in her hand.

            “Felicity, you look…”

            “Do you like my new hair?”  she asked, setting the champagne flute behind her and walking toward him.

            “You look stunning.  Really. You look amazing.”

            She slid her arms around his neck, leaning in and kissing him softly. She had a slight buzz from the champagne, and his body felt firm and solid against her.  He deepened the kiss, hands pressing into her waist in the way that always made her go crazy.  She pulled away after a moment and said, “We are having sex tonight. Okay?”

            He chuckled, eyes dark.  “Who am I to argue?”

            She grinned, taking a hold of the collar of his leather jacket and pulling his mouth back to hers.  They stumbled their way to her bedroom, knocking into a chair and over a pair of shoes on their way.  She pushed the jacket over his shoulders and he tugged it off, tossing it behind him.  

            The back of her knees hit the mattress and she sat down, hands clumsily working on his belt.  He took a hold of her hands and said, “Okay, this is happening.  It is definitely happening.  But, I need to run to the bathroom.  So…can we pause this for just a second?”

            She nodded, smoothing her hair away from her face.  “We can.  We definitely can.”

            “Okay. Don’t go anywhere.”

            She laughed.  “I won’t.”

            He hurried out of the room to her bathroom and she scooted back on the bed, stretching out.  Horizontal, she felt the day’s activities weigh heavily on her, and a tidal wave of exhaustion hit her so forcefully that she found it difficult to even lift her head.

            “No,” she murmured.  “You are going to have sex with your boyfriend, Felicity.  No excuses.”

            In response her cancer jauntily retorted, _“Good luck with that.”_

            Oliver returned and climbed onto the bed beside her, his hand finding her waist quickly and his mouth reclaiming hers.  He kissed her soundly, his hand dipping under her nightgown. She kissed him back, trying to find the heat she’d felt only minutes prior, but all she felt was tired. Bone-achingly tired.

            When he moved his mouth to her neck she murmured, “Oliver.”

            He misconstrued her murmuring of his name and said, “I want you too, babe. So much.”

            She squeezed her eyes shut and said, “Crap.”

            That he did not misconstrue, and he pulled back and asked, “What is it? Are you feeling okay?”

            “I’m feeling fine,” she said quickly.  “I’m just…really tired.  I thought I could do this – I _want_ to do this – but today sort of just hit me, and…” she saw the disappointment flicker in his eyes, “…I’m sorry.  I’m a terrible girlfriend.”

            “No, you’re not,” he said.  “It’s okay.”

            “It’s not,” she said, shaking her head.  “I practically jumped you, and now I’m too tired.  I’m the worst.”

            He pulled her into his arms and kissed the side of her head. “You are not the worst.”

            “I feel like a tease,” she said.  “I’m sorry.  I really did intend on sleeping with you tonight.  I swear.”

            He smirked at her choice of words and said, “I really intended on sleeping with you, too.  But we’ll do it another time. When you feel up to it.”

            She snuggled against him, gathering the material of his tshirt between her fingers.  It was warm in her bedroom, and from that and the activity of a few minutes prior, she felt sweat dotting her hairline.  She hesitated before pushing herself up to sitting and pulling off the wig.  Oliver sat up and grabbed her hands as she went to tug the wig cap off her head.  He placed her hands in her lap and then reached up, carefully pulling the wig cap off of her head. He placed it on the bed beside him and then took a hold of her face.  She held her breath as he pulled her face closer and then pressed a soft kiss on the smooth skin of her head.  The act was so simple, yet spoke volumes to her. 

            “Let’s go to sleep,” he murmured.

            “You don’t have to,” she said.  “I know it’s early.”

            He settled down on the bed and held out his hand for her.  She smiled a bit before settling down next to him, her head resting on his chest.  She fell asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat.  Oliver didn’t fall asleep for another good two hours, but he wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else.  He watched her sleep until he dozed off himself, his last lucid thought her angry face in that bar all those months ago, and how that simple meeting could change him so profoundly.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

           Ever since she learned that the cancer spread, Felicity dreaded going to Dr. Stone’s office.  From that day forward, it held nothing but bad news and unpleasant memories for her. But today, sitting across from him as he read the results of her final scan, she couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful.  Her last scan, taken only a few days after her eventful trip to the wig shop and uneventful night in with Oliver, showed progress, and she was hopeful that today would show even more.  It was her choice to continue with the aggressive round of chemotherapy for an additional three months, not wanting to take any chances.  The last month had been difficult – the chemotherapy started making her sick again, and she had to take off work for two weeks straight – but she kept telling herself this was the price she had to pay to be healthy. A few months of hell for a future. She could handle that.

            “How are you feeling today?”  Dr. Stone asked.

            “Strong,” she said.  “I feel more like myself than I have in months.  Which is good. I think it’s good.”

            Dr. Stone laughed.  “That is definitely good.”

            “She’s been eating better,” Oliver added.  “She’s able to keep food down now.  For the most part, I mean.  We’ve been keeping a pretty simple diet.  Lots of grains. Lots of fruit and vegetables.”

            “Too many vegetables,” Felicity said, wrinkling her nose.  “I swear, all I’ve wanted these past few weeks is a burger. But, this one over here is all, ‘have more kale.’”

            She covered Oliver’s hand with her own and he gave it a small squeeze. They were both nervous, hence the rambling about food, but this was the big visit.  The one that literally determined their future. If the scans came back positive, they would have to assess where to go next, and it likely would be an even more aggressive treatment.

            “Well, why don’t we get right to the results,” Dr. Stone said. He didn’t open the chart in front of him, which clearly had Felicity’s name on it, and she tried to decide whether that was good or bad.  “I am happy to tell you that your scan came back negative.”

            “Negative,” Felicity repeated.  “What-what does that mean?”

            Dr. Stone smiled wide, the small gesture making him look years younger. “It means that you are cancer-free, Felicity.”

            She grasped Oliver’s hand so tightly that she was certain her fingers would leave marks. 

            “Are you – are you sure?” she stammered.  “Because, that’s…”

            “I am very sure,” Dr. Stone said. 

            She glanced over at Oliver and let out a heavy breath when she saw the tightness of his jaw, the glassiness of his eyes.  She reached over without really thinking, pulling his face to hers and pressing a kiss on both of his cheeks.

            “Hey, it’s okay,” she said.  “I’m okay. Did you hear that? I’m okay.”

            “I know,” he murmured, letting out a thick laugh.  “I’m happy.  I’m so happy.” He turned his attention back to Dr. Stone, although he still held her hand tightly in his lap. “Thank you so much for everything, Dr. Stone.  We…we couldn’t have done this without you.  Without your guidance and your advice.  We just…thank you.”

            Dr. Stone nodded, folding his hands on top of her chart.  “This is as much a victory for me as it is for you two. I hate losing patients, especially ones as wonderful as you, Felicity.”

            She wiped at her eyes, so happy that it felt as if her heart would beat clear out of her chest.  “Thank you so much, Dr. Stone.”

            “Now, it’s important to remember you are not cured,” Dr. Stone said carefully, leaning forward.  “We don’t use that word until you are five years out.  And we will continue to have scans.  We’ll start with every three months, and then go to six months.”

            She nodded.  “Okay. All of that sounds good. All of that sounds great.”

            “But, Felicity, you _are_ in remission. So, enjoy that. Don’t worry too much about the scans. We’ll handle them when it’s time. Now, just enjoy your life and your friends and family.  You deserve it.”

 

* * *

 

 

            They left the doctor’s office ecstatic, both of them nearly drunk on the pure joy of it all.  It was a sunny day and she tipped her head back as they walked outside, feeling the sun bathe her face. Oliver slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her to him, burying his face in her neck. She held onto his shoulders, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

            “I really thought we were going to get bad news in there,” he murmured against her skin. “I wanted it to be good, but…”

            “I know,” she said.  He pulled back and she took a hold of his face, grinning up at him.  His eyes were wide and bright, and she could see her face reflected in his eyes, and everything felt so perfect and wonderful. She couldn’t imagine a person she would rather be standing outside of that hospital with, good news or bad news. It was him.  It had always been him.  And she didn’t want it to be anyone else.  Not then, not ever.  She wanted him forever.  She wanted him then, and tomorrow, and every tomorrow to come.

            “I love you,” she said.  “I love you so much. More than I can even understand sometimes.”

            “I love you, too.”

            “And you’ve been so wonderful through all of this.  You’ve been more than I could have even imagined, and I know that I wouldn’t be standing here right now if it weren’t for you. You were my rock through all of this. My rock, and my heart, and everything. You are everything to me, Oliver.”

            He smiled down at her, his eyes glassy.

            “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she murmured, stepping closer to him. “I want to spend every day that I have left loving you, and honoring you, and –“

            He cut her off with a kiss and she was only too happy to be quiet, her mouth opening up beneath his.  She clung to him, feeling the relief wash over her again.  Yesterday she hadn’t known how much time they had left. Now she knew, and she couldn’t wait to start using that time.  This entire experience had taught her that life was brutally short.  Even when you got all the years you expected, it wasn’t enough time.  She didn’t want to wait another minute to start living the rest of her years.

            He pulled away slightly and asked, “Just to be clear, you were talking about us getting married before, right?”

            She laughed, nodding.  “Yes, I was.”

            “Oh good,” he said, kissing her again.  She went to kiss him back when he pulled back again and said, “By the way, my answer is yes.  I totally want to marry you.”

            She grinned up at him, thinking to herself that it wasn’t possible to love anyone more than she loved him in that moment.  “Let’s go home.”

            “Home? Are you kidding me? We’re going straight to Tommy to tell him all of this.  Cancer-free and engaged? He won’t know what to do with himself with all this good news.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Tommy did, in fact, know what to do with good news and that was to break out a bottle of champagne and raise a glass to Oliver and Felicity’s future. Before pouring Felicity a glass he hesitated and asked, “You can drink this right?  It won’t, I don’t know, mess things up?”

            She considered this for a moment and then asked,  “Are you asking if a glass of champagne will bring my cancer back?”

            She burst into laughter as he stammered, “No!  I mean, I don’t know if it will interact with the chemotherapy or something?”

            She grinned, taking the glass from his hand.  “I can have a glass of champagne.  In fact, I can have more than one glass.  And, I’m officially done with chemotherapy. My last session was on Tuesday.”

            “So, it’s really over?”  he asked, looking between her and Oliver.  “The cancer. It’s gone?”

            She nodded.  “All of it. I mean, there’s a chance it could come back –“

            “Which it won’t,” Oliver piped in.

            “I know,” she said, laying a hand on his chest.  “We hope it won’t.  But right now – standing here in front of you guys – I am cancer-free.”

            Tommy beamed, holding up his glass.  “I’ll drink to that.  And to your engagement!  What, were you guys trying to have a race to see how many life events you could cram into one afternoon?”

            “It felt right,” Felicity said, grinning toward Oliver.  “Life’s too short to wait for things.  We want to spend the rest of our lives together, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

            “Well, I’m happy for you two,” Tommy said.  “If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you two.  You guys have been through hell.”

            Felicity slipped her arm around Oliver’s waist.  “We have.  But, we made it through.  All of us did.”

            They went through the bottle of champagne and then ordered in greasy takeout that Felicity had been dreaming about for months.  It tasted like heaven, and a few hours later when her and Oliver were back at her apartment, curled up in her bed, she couldn’t help but think it had been the perfect day.  The most perfect, and something about that didn’t sit right.

            “I remember lying in this exact spot this morning and just terrified to get out of bed,” she murmured.  “I had hope that I’d get good news, but then there was a part of me – a big part of me – that was afraid it would be like all the other times.  All the other days I got out of bed for bad news.”

            He dropped a kiss to her shoulder and murmured, “But you got good news today.”

            “I know,” she said.  “I did. I got really good news. And…I’m happy. I am so happy, but I think of all the people I’ve met.  I think about the ladies at chemotherapy, and all the women in the waiting room, and I can’t help but wonder…why me?”

            “You can’t ask those questions,” he murmured. 

            “I know,” she said immediately.  “I know. And when we left the office, I was so happy.  I was practically drunk on it. But now I just can’t stop thinking about all those people who don’t get good news and…”

            “Hey, you deserve to be healthy just as much as anyone else,” he told her.

            “I know I do.  But why? Why do I get to be lucky like this?”

            He tightened his hold on her waist.  “I don’t know why.  I don’t think that’s something we can ever know.  But, what we can do is be grateful.  And take this life you were given and make something out of it.”

            She ran her fingers along his arm, letting what he said really sink in, and hoping it would take away the nagging guilt she felt. 

 

* * *

 

 

            The next morning she felt better, and she fixed them some breakfast while he slept. She made waffles in the waffle machine Donna bought her years ago for her old apartment that she never used, and she brewed some coffee. Everything was just about ready when he padded into the kitchen.

            “Good morning,” he said, yawning as he sat down at the table.

            “Good morning,” she said.  “How’d you sleep?”

            “Really well,” he said.  “The best I have in months, honestly.”

            She smiled softly, flipping two waffles onto a plate and then bringing it over to him.  “Hold on a second for the butter and syrup.  I only have the sugar-free stuff, but I think it pretty much tastes the same.”

            He smirked.  “That’s debatable, but I’ll take your word for it.”

            She gave him a look before heading over to the refrigerator. As she pulled open the door and began rifling through the refrigerator for what she was looking for, he said, “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

            “I’m sorry for being so dramatic,” she said, finally locating the butter and closing the refrigerator door.  “Remission guilt.  I’d heard it happens, but I’m fine now.  Really. You were right. We can’t know why we were given a second chance, but we can make the best out of it.  So, that’s what I’m going to do.”

            He nodded.  “I’m happy to hear that. But, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

            “Oh,” she said in surprise, pouring them both cups of coffee. “What is it, then? I didn’t say something weird in my sleep, did I?”

            He chuckled. “No.  You’re not a sleep talker, despite what Tommy told me.”

            “I’m glad to hear I grew out of that.”

            “You were saying last night that you were so happy after we got the news.   And how you were practically drunk on that happiness.  Which, I understand. I was pretty deliriously happy, too. But, I want to make sure that we didn’t decide on anything that we might regret later.  That we didn’t jump too quickly into anything.”

            She placed the cup of coffee in front of him and sat down.  “You mean us getting married?”

            He nodded.  “Yeah. I mean us getting married.”

            She wrapped her hands around the mug and murmured, “Do you not want to? I mean, I thought we were on the same page, and –“

            “No, of course I want to,” he said immediately, reaching over the table and taking her hand.  “I would marry you today if you wanted.  I just don’t want you to regret anything.  Both of us were pretty emotional when we left Dr. Stone’s, and we might not have been thinking clearly –“

            “I meant what I said,” she interrupted.  “Every word.”

            Oliver let what she said settled for a moment and then nodded. “Okay then.”

            She stared at him.  “Okay then? What does that mean? Does that…does that mean we’re still getting married?”

            “It means we probably should go ring shopping today,” he answered sensibly. “It seems a bit weird to announce an engagement without a ring.”

            She grinned, relief evident in her face.  “Ring shopping, huh?”

            “Unless you want an engagement necklace or something.  It’s untraditional, but I’m willing to try new things.”

            She laughed.  “I want an engagement ring.  Definitely a ring.”

            He nodded, a smile tugging at his mouth.  “Then a ring it is.”           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one chapter left in this! Thank you all for your kind reviews over the course of this story. I've appreciated each and every one!


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is here! Just, a word of advice - MAKE SURE TO READ TO THE END.

            Tommy and Oliver sat on their couch, legs stretched out and feet propped on top of the coffee table that in their four years living in the apartment had never actually housed coffee.  It should have been called a beer table.  Or magazines that should have been thrown away months ago table. There was currently a pile of People and GQ, the one on top heralding back from November.

            “Why do we never throw out magazines?”  Oliver asked. “I always mean to. I’m taking out the garbage, and I think – hey, you should throw those in.  But I never do.”

            “I don’t know,” Tommy said, crossing his ankles casually.  “They do look nice there.  It’s also nice reading material for when Sara kicks me out of the bedroom for snoring.”

            Oliver snorted.  “She still does that?”

            “We’ve settled on a noise machine,” Tommy said.  “With the hopes it will drown out my snoring.  I swear it’s not that bad.”

            “How would you know?  You’re asleep.”

            “Oh, I know,” Tommy said.  He pointed at his nose and said, “Look at this.  There’s no way it makes the noises she claims it does.”

            Oliver laughed.  “Whatever you say.”

            “So, I actually wanted to talk to you about the apartment,”  Tommy said after a moment.  “Sara’s been starting to hint that she wants us to move in together.”

            Oliver looked over at Tommy in surprise.  “Really?”

            “What’s with the tone of disbelief?  Is it that hard to think my girlfriend would want to move in with me?”

            “Considering that you just told me she regularly kicks you out of the bedroom for snoring…”

            “No relationship is perfect,” Tommy returned sagely.  “And, anyway, I think it’s time.  We’ve been dating for almost six months now.  We’re both past the feeling things out stage.  We want to take the next step.”

            Oliver nodded. “Well, Tommy, I’m happy for you.”

            “Thank you. Which brings me to the apartment. The lease is up for renewal next month. And while I’d like to keep my bachelor pad, I’m not sure Sara would appreciate that.”

            Oliver grinned.  “Probably not. Bachelor pads tend to make girlfriends nervous.” 

            “Yours seems fine with it.”

            “I haven’t actually slept here in months.  That’s probably why.”

            Tommy peeled at the wrapper on his beer and asked, “So, are we decided then? We’re moving out?”

            “I think it makes sense.  I mean, I can’t exactly stay here after Felicity and I are married.  And, you’re taking the next step with Sara. There’s no reason for us to have this place anymore.”

            Tommy took a pull from his beer.  “Man, it’s the end of an era.  The end of our bachelor life.”

            Oliver chuckled. “I think that ship sailed a while ago. For both of us.”

            “You’re right,”  Tommy said glumly. “When did we become these people? People who…who go to brunch and farmers markets.  I used to hate farmers markets.  And now I go every Saturday.  And I _like_ it.”

            Tommy sounded positively downtrodden, and Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. They had changed a lot over the past year, but maybe that was a good thing.  When he thought about the old Oliver, he didn’t know if he liked him. He was careless and callous. He was directionless in his pursuits, although the old Oliver would have vehemently denied that.   But then everything changed.

            “You always said we could be the relationship type if we met the right people. And we did.  Both of us.”

            Tommy considered this for a moment.  “I really do love her.  Dammit.”

            Oliver grinned over at his friend.  “It sneaks up on you.  I still remember when I realized I loved Felicity.  It’s like I was hit by an anvil.”

            Tommy snorted.  “You should tell Felicity that.  Falling in love with her was like being hit by a blunt object.  Very poetic.”

            “You know what I mean.  It came out of nowhere, but after I realized it I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been to not realize it sooner.”

            “You were pretty stupid,” Tommy remarked, voice lit with nostalgia. “All of us knew it before you. Me.  Thea.  Felicity’s mom.”

            “Felicity’s mom?”  Oliver asked in confusion.

            “Yeah, at Thanksgiving.  She kept watching you two at dinner with that knowing look.  Even my dad said something after you all left.”

            “This has me questioning my deductive skills.”

            “Nah,” Tommy said easily, taking another swig of beer.  “You’re just an idiot when it comes to love. But, I guess we both are. I spent all that time chasing after Laurel.”  He shook his head. “I’m lucky Sara didn’t laugh me off when I asked her out.”

            “We both were pretty stupid,” Oliver relented.  “But somehow, it worked out.”

            “And I will never, in a million years, understand why,” Tommy finished. “But I’m glad it did.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Over the next few weeks, Felicity and Sara helped their respective fiancée and boyfriend move out of the apartment.  Felicity remembered how difficult it was moving out of her apartment before she came to Starling, and she could see the same sort of reluctance in both Oliver and Tommy. They’d lived there for a long time. A lot of memories were made in four years.

            Felicity spotted Oliver standing silently in his bedroom and she walked in and stepped behind him, sliding her arms around his waist.

            “Thinking about all the good times you had in here?” she teased.

            “No,” he said, covering her arms with his own.  “I’m thinking how big it looks without furniture. A bed and dressers really take up space.”

            She nodded her head against his back.  “Yes. They do.”

            “I’m going to miss this place.  I didn’t think I would, but this place was my home for a long time.”

            She rested her cheek against his back.  “I know.”

            She could feel him take a large breath and then he said, “But I have a new home now.”

            “Yes, you do.  And I’ll even let you bring in some of the stuff from here.  But not the Sports Illustrated posters.  Those are going to their new home – the garbage.”

            He chuckled.  “Don’t worry. They’re already in the chuck pile.”

            “Good.”

            They heard some commotion outside, and they walked out of the bedroom to see Sara and Tommy arguing over a wagon-wheel end table, that apparently Tommy had in his bedroom.  Felicity had never seen it before, but that didn’t stop her from thinking it was one of the ugliest pieces of furniture she had ever seen.

            “This is not going into our apartment,” Sara said firmly. “This is awful. How do you not see how awful it is?”

            “It’s not awful,” Tommy said heatedly.  “It’s art.”

            “This is art?” she retorted with a snort.  “Tommy, this is a piece of crap.  The varnish is all chipped.  It wobbles. And, IT’S A WAGON WHEEL.”

            “I have had this table since freshman year of college,” Tommy argued. “This table and I have history!”

            Felicity leaned against Oliver, and he slipped his arm around her waist casually.

            “That table is awful,” she said under her breath.  “Like…really awful.”

            “I know,”  Oliver said. “That’s why I made him put it in his bedroom.”

            She snorted.  “Let’s go pack up the kitchen while they argue more.”

            Oliver nodded, following her to the kitchen.  She opened up one of the cupboards, beginning to take down the various mugs.  They had a lot, and she was surprised when her hand closed around a Tardis mug. In fact, it looked like one that Oliver had told her he broke early in their relationship.

            “What is this?” she asked, turning toward Oliver.

            Oliver’s cheek reddened.  “Oh, um, that’s a Tardis mug.”

            “I can see that.”  She turned it over, finding the same chip on the bottom that her old one had.  “Oliver.  Is this the one from my apartment that you told me you broke?”

            He nodded sheepishly.  “Um, yeah. It is.”

            “Why did you steal my mug?” she asked innocently.

            “Well, I missed you when I was here.  And so, I wanted something that reminded me of you here.”

            She smiled a bit, hand curling around the mug.  “You stole my mug because you missed me?”

            “I wouldn’t say I stole it.  I –“

            “Okay, first of all, you definitely stole it.  And second…” she placed the mug on the counter and walked over, draping her arms around his neck, “…this is by far the cutest and weirdest thing anyone has ever done because of me.”

            She leaned in and kissed him, smiling against his mouth as she thought again about just how adorable it was he stole her mug because he missed her. There was a loud crash from the rec room and she pulled back, surprised eyes meeting Oliver’s.

            “You broke my table!”  Tommy bellowed.

            “No, I put something on it!”  Sara yelled back. “Which, by the way, is the purpose of a table.  If you can’t put things on it, THEN WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF HAVING IT?!”

            “I think we should go in there before they kill each other,” Oliver said.

            Felicity pressed her lips together to keep from laughing and nodded. “Yeah.  Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Later that week Felicity sat in hospital, waiting for her name to be called to go and have her three month scans taken.  It was the first of the various scans she’d get over the next five years to track her remission.  Oliver sat next to her, scrolling through her iPad as he went over wedding details with her. She’d asked him to distract her in the waiting room, but now she found it just that – distracting – and not in a good way.

            “I called around to some florists, and I think I found one that’s a possibility,” he said.  “They’re decently priced, and can do themed flower arrangements.  That could be sort of cool, right?  I mean I know we haven’t decided on a theme yet, but –“

            “Oliver,” she said in a tight voice.  “I know I asked you to go over wedding plans with me in here, and I love you for doing that, but could we not?  I…I thought it would help, but it’s just making me more anxious.”

            Oliver nodded, turning the iPad off and stashing it in her purse.

            “Of course.  We’ll do whatever you want.”

            She nodded, grasping his hand tightly. 

            “You have nothing to worry about,” he reminded her for what had to been the seventh or eighth time that day. 

            “I know,” she murmured.

            “You’ve been feeling well.  You’ve been doing regular breast exams.  We’re just going to go in there today, get the scan and blood work done, and go back to planning our wedding, okay?”

            “Okay.” She was quiet for a moment. “But what happens if there is something to worry about?”

            Oliver’s jaw tightened.  While he’d been constantly reassuring her that everything was going to be okay, he’d pushed back the very real possibility that it wouldn’t be. That was always a possibility. And it wasn’t even a remote one. Recurrence was common, especially in Felicity’s type of breast cancer, but he had to believe they would be okay.  They’d been through enough already.

            A nurse walked out and called Felicity’s name.  Felicity stood up, still grasping his hand. She looked down at him and forced a smile before saying, “Showtime.”

            “You’re going to be great,” he said, kissing her hand before watching her walk over toward the nurse.  He’d wanted to go in with her, but she’d asked to go alone.  She said this was something she wanted to do by herself. So, he stayed in the waiting room, blindly looking through wedding florists as he waited for her to come back to him.

 

* * *

 

 

            There was so much to do for the wedding, even with the year between then and the booking of the venue, Felicity still felt like she was drowning in paperwork and appointments.  Not to mention all the wedding blogs her mother kept sending her, which she then felt obliged to look at.

            She was looking through one of those blogs while Oliver made them dinner one night.  The blog post was about how this bride made her own mints for wedding favors.

            “Oliver,” she said.  “Are we not doing enough stuff ourselves for the wedding?  To add a personal touch?”

            “What do you mean?” he asked, wiping his hands on his apron and walking over to her.

            “This bride made her own mints for wedding favors,” Felicity said, pointing at the screen.  “And she took artsy pictures of them.  Another blog had these royal icing cookies with the bride and groom’s initials on them. That could be fun, right?”

            “What’s royal icing?”

            She bit her lip.  “I don’t really know. But I can find out. Or we can make the place cards ourselves.  I have really good handwriting.”

            “Why do it yourself when you can pay someone else to probably do a better job?” Oliver asked, walking back into the kitchen to check on the chicken that was currently cooking on the stovetop.

            “It’s not about that,” she said.  “It’s to add a personal touch to the wedding.  I don’t want ours to be all corporate.”

            She could hear his laughter.

            “Do you want a corporate wedding?” she tossed back. 

            “I don’t even know what that means,” he said.  “And we will have personal touches.  We just won’t, you know, do the touching ourselves.”

            “I want people to remember our wedding,” she said.  “Really remember it, you know?  I’ve gone to so many weddings over the years, and I feel like I barely remember them.  I know I went. I know the bride looked beautiful and the groom looked terrified.  But, I don’t _really_ remember them.”

            Oliver walked back out.  “The grooms look terrified?  Really?”

            She nodded.  “Oh yeah. They always look like they’re about to crap their pants.”

            “I won’t,” he held steadfastly.

            She grinned.  “That’s sweet. But, yes, you will. It’s the natural male reaction to forever and always.  You all get over it, though.  Or at least most of you do.”

            “I can’t wait for forever and always,” he said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head.  “And I promise you our wedding will not be corporate.  Or whatever other thing you’re worried about.  It’s going to be perfect.”

            “Perfect,” she said, wrinkling her nose.  “That’s such an unattainable standard.”

            “Not for us,” he said simply.  Something seemed to distract him, and she knew what it was when she caught the distinct scent of burning meat.  He swore under his breath and ran back to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

            Felicity was driving when she got the phone call.  Her immediate reaction was to not answer. She was driving. What if it was bad news? But she answered anyway. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it in a voicemail.  Or have to call back, knowing the entire drive home that her fate was a phone call away. It worked out that she pulled to a stop at a red light when she answered the call.

            “Hello, this is Felicity Merlyn,” she said carefully.

            “Felicity, hi,” a familiar voice said.

            “Dr. Stone, how are you?”  Felicity said, feeling both relieved and nervous at hearing his voice.  Logically, she knew he would be delivering the news either way. Still, it was nice to hear his voice.

            “I’m good, Felicity.  Thank you for asking. I have your results here.”

            “And?” she asked, holding the steering wheel so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palm.

            “It’s not what we hoped for.”

            The light turned green and she stayed there with her foot on the break, the words ringing in her ear like after a gunshot.  A car honked behind her and she hit the gas clumsily with her foot, her car shooting forward.  She nearly careened into the car in front of her, but hit the break just in time.

            “Felicity, this isn’t what we wanted, but we can treat it.  I already have several courses of treatment that I would like to discuss with you.  We –“

            “How bad is it?”  she interrupted, pulling into the parking lot of a Walgreens.  “Just please tell me, is it like before?  Is it worse?”

            She parked her car and then let go of the steering wheel.  Her hands were numb.

            “We discovered another tumor in your breast,” Dr. Stone explained slowly. “It’s small, which is why there was no outward indication.  But, it is aggressive again.  We are going to want to start treatment as soon as possible.”

            “How aggressive?” she asked. 

            She was met with silence.

            “Dr. Stone, please,” she said, feeling herself get choked up. “Please just tell me the truth. I don’t need this to be candy-coated. I…I know this isn’t good. So, please, just tell me how not good it is.”

            She heard Dr. Stone clear his throat.  “It’s returned in a more aggressive form.  You will likely need both radiation and chemotherapy. Your chemotherapy will be different. It will be both more aggressive and more frequent.”

            “Survival rates?” she asked, her voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

            He paused before telling her, “Fifty percent.”

            She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her reaction.  Fifty percent.  It was literally a coin toss whether she would make it out of this alive.

            “But there is a lot we can do to get you into that fifty percent,” Dr. Stone said emphatically. “And we will.  We will do everything we can, Felicity, to get you in that fifty percent.”

            “Thank you,” she murmured, wiping at her eyes. “I…I have to go. Set up an appointment for the earliest you can.  I’ll make sure I’m available.”

            “Alright, my nurse will call you when it’s scheduled.  And, Felicity, don’t lose hope.  You beat this once.  You can do it again.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Spring turned to summer, and Felicity broke out her head scarves again as the chic bob she’d managed to grow between her remission and recurrence ended up in the bathroom sink.  Having cancer again felt a bit like going to a summer camp that you hated being at in the first place.  She’d done this all before. The chemotherapy. The baldness.  The endless trips to the hospital.  She couldn’t find any of her old humor about it all, if she even had that humor to begin with. 

She was angry. She was angry at her body for being sick again.  She was angry at herself for not handling it better.  She was angry at Tommy, Sara, and Oliver for putting up with her, even when she yelled, railed, and hit.  They were just there. Constantly.  Even when she slammed doors and yelled until her throat went raw. They were always fucking there, and she didn’t deserve it.  She didn’t deserve any of them.

            “Just go,” she cried, crouched over the toilet as nausea shook her to the core. Once again, the nausea medication didn’t work, and every day was a challenge.  Oliver kneeled next to her, his hand grasping her left wrist. He ran his thumb along her empty ring finger.  They’d cancelled the wedding a few weeks prior, when it became clear she wouldn’t be able to walk down the aisle.  Oliver still wanted to go through with it.  He’d told that he would carry her himself down the aisle if he had to, but she refused. She told him that she didn’t have the energy to go through with it anymore, but it was more than that. Every day she could feel herself growing weaker, and she knew one day she’d slip away, and it would be hard enough for him.  He was already going to lose her.  He didn’t have to lose a wife, too.

            “I’m not going anywhere,” he all but hissed.  They’d gone past soothing words weeks ago, and he fought tooth and claw to stay by her side.  She didn’t like it – didn’t like what it did to him, what it _took_ from him – but she didn’t argue.  Besides, she probably couldn’t make it back to her bed by herself.

            “I wish it would just happen already,” she muttered, cheek resting on the toilet seat.  “This isn’t living. This…this is dying.”

            Oliver ripped off a piece of toilet paper and wiped at the edge of her mouth. “No, this is the chemotherapy. This is fighting.”

            “I’m tired of fighting.”

            “I know,” he said, sliding his hands along her arms.  “But you have to keep doing it.  Come on, let’s get you back to your bed.  Do you think you can stand?”

            She nodded, pressing her palms on the toilet seat and then pushing herself up slowly. Oliver took a hold of her waist and she put her weight on him, like she always did, and let him lead her over to the bed. He helped her onto the bed and she closed her eyes, her heart racing from the simple act of moving four feet. She heard him leave the room and she said, “Oliver, wait.”

            When she opened her eyes he was at her side again.  He looked so tired.  His face was drawn and he had dark bags under his eyes.  She knew it wasn’t easy taking care of her. Having a loved one sick was never easy, and she hadn’t exactly been making it easy this time around.

            She patted the empty bed beside her and he hesitated for a moment before stretching out next to her.  She used what was left of her strength to settle herself against him, her head resting on his chest.

            “I’m sorry,” she murmured.  “I’ve been such a bitch lately.  It’s just…I’m angry all the time.  I’m _so_ angry, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to not feel this way.”

            “I know,” he said.

            “I’m sorry that I take it out on you,” she said.  “You don’t deserve that.  You…you deserve so much more.”

            He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I called your mom.”

            “You what?”

            “She has a right to know,” he said.  “Besides, it’d be good to have another set of hands around here. You know how bad I am at doing laundry.”

            She smiled slightly.  It was rare that she smiled anymore, and when she did it was always because of him.

            “When’s she coming?”  Felicity asked.

            “Tonight. When I told her she immediately booked a flight.  And I mean immediately. I was on the phone when she booked it.”

            “My mom must have finally figured out how to use Expedia,” Felicity mused, yawning. She snuggled closer to Oliver, his body against hers the only sense of calm she felt in the maelstrom of her life. “You know, she’s never going to leave now. At least not until…”

            Oliver tightened his grip on her.  “She can stay as long as she wants.  We never finish a gallon of milk, anyway.”

            Felicity was quiet, thinking about everything that had happened over the past few months and thinking about him.

            “Felicity?” Oliver asked quietly.

            “I’m not sure if I’ve said this enough, but thank you.  Throughout all of this you have been unbelievable. I might not always seem grateful, but I couldn’t do this without you.  Not a single day.”

            “I’ll be here for you,” Oliver said, laying his hand on jaw and tilting her mouth up to his.  “I will always be here for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Donna arrived around midnight, and she looked in on her daughter before joining Oliver downstairs for a drink.  She held the glass of wine tightly, taking small sips in the silence. Neither really knew what to say. It was an awkward situation at its best, and Oliver was too tired, and Donna too anxious, to really think through what was appropriate to say.

            “Why did you only call me now?”  Donna finally asked.  “She…I can tell this has been going on for some time.  I should have known.”

            “I agree,” Oliver said.  “But she didn’t want to worry you.  I know it doesn’t seem this way now, but she was trying to protect you.”

            Donna set her glass on her lap and stared at him levelly.  “What else do I not know?”

            “The first time,” he began slowly.  “It spread to her lymph node system.  She had to undergo chemotherapy.”

            Oliver could see her grip on the wine glass tighten. 

            “Was it bad?” she asked in a low voice.

            He shrugged.  “It wasn’t good. But, she got through it. Your daughter’s a fighter.”

            “This is why you called off the wedding,” Donna said after a moment. “It is, isn’t it?”

            Oliver nodded.  “She said it’s because she can’t handle the planning anymore, but I think it’s more than that. I think she’s afraid to do it now. Like, she’s in too dark of a place. She’s afraid to let any light in.”

            “That doesn’t sound like her.”

            Oliver took a large sip of his wine.  “She hasn’t been herself in months.  This time…it’s changed her.  She’s angry all of the time.  She’s bitter.”

            Donna laughed humorlessly.  “Can you blame her? She beat this once, only to have it come back?  And when she’s supposed to be getting married?  I’d be pissed, too.”

            “Yeah, I guess.”

            “She’s always dreamed about the day she finally marries the man she loves,” Donna said.  “Since she was a little girl.”

            Oliver smiled a bit.  “I always imagined her talking about code or something when she was little.”

            Donna laughed.  “That too. But, she’s been waiting to find that perfect person for a long time.  She thought she found him a few times, but I always knew it wasn’t quite time. And then she met you.”

            “I don’t know if you would have liked me when I met Felicity.”

            “Well, I like you now,” Donna said curtly.  “Do you love my daughter?”

            Oliver nodded, feeling his breath catch in his throat.  “More than I can even tell you.”

            “And I know she loves you.  That’s why she’s pushing you away.  She thinks it will hurt less.”

            Oliver blinked back tears.  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

            “Do you still want to marry my daughter?”

            He nodded.  “Yes. I do.”

            “Well, okay then.  I think we have some planning to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

            A surprise wedding.  Oliver was half-convinced it would explode in all of their faces, but he was too excited to care. It had been a while since they all had something to look forward to, and they threw themselves into the planning with fervor.  Donna, him, Sara, and Tommy talked almost daily to check up on how things were progressing.  They gave themselves three weeks to get everything in order, partially because it seemed like a quick but reasonable timeframe, but also because they all silently agreed this was a safe timeframe to assume Felicity would still be able to attend.

            Tommy worked on the entertainment and venue.  He pitched Oliver and Felicity’s story to a local B&B, and they immediately offered up their dining area and grounds for the wedding. They offered up their catering services, but Oliver already had food covered.  He coordinated with his and Felicity’s favorite takeout restaurants to have an absolute cornucopia of their guilty pleasures.  Tommy booked a quartet that promised they could do standards as well as Top 40.  Donna handled the decorations – coordinating with a florist friend who happened to live in the area.

            Sara had the least jobs, but arguably the most important. She was in charge of the dress, and she was having difficulty choosing one.  Oliver kept offering his help, but she refused to let him help.

            “You shouldn’t see the dress until Felicity is in it,” she held.

            It was Donna who ultimately found the dress.  It was loose and fluid, with delicate crystals just under the bust. The moment Donna saw it, she knew it was the dress her daughter would get married in. 

            Everything came together quickly, and then there was only one thing left. They had to tell the bride. The original plan was to tell her they were driving her to a checkup, but to drive to the B&B instead. Dr. Stone had cleared her for short trips, and offered his well wishes and promise not to spill the beans to Felicity.

            She was too weak to walk any real distance anymore, so Oliver helped her into the wheelchair and then wheeled her out to the car.  She was mostly silent as he helped her into the car. Her face was pale, eyelids almost translucent.

            He shut the door and slipped into the driver’s seat, pulling away from the apartment. It only took her a few minutes to notice they were driving in the opposite direction of the hospital.

            “Oliver. Where are we going?”

            “To see Dr. Stone.  I told you.”

            She turned her head toward him – not a small feat these days – and told him, “Nice try.  The hospital is clear in the other direction.  Where are we going?”

            He took a deep breath and then told her,  “Open the glove compartment.”

            “What?”

            “Just open it.”

            She reached forward, her hands clumsily pulling down the glove compartment. She pushed her hand into the compartment and inhaled sharply when her fingers closed around a ring box.

            “Oliver,” she said hesitantly, pulling out the box.  “Where are we going?”

            “Open the box.”

            She flipped it open, tears filling her eyes when she saw her engagement ring nestled in the red velvet.  She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she missed wearing it.  But she closed the box, anyway.  He noticed her push the box back into the glove compartment.

            “Felicity –“

            “Take me home.  Please.”

            “No. Felicity –“

            “I know what’s happening.  We can’t do this. I- I can’t do this.”

            “Why not?”  he asked, pulling into the B&B’s parking lot.  He pulled to a stop in one of the spots and turned toward her.  “Why can’t you do this?  You asked me to marry you six months ago.”

            “Things are different now,” she held stubbornly, her chin quivering.  
            “Nothing is different. I love you and you love me. What is different?”

            “You know what,” she said.  “Oliver, please.”

            He took a hold of her face and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “I know that you’re scared. I am, too.  But you can’t let that stop you from living. You’re still here, Felicity. You are still here, living and breathing, and I can’t watch you throw away your dreams.”

            “It’s not fair to you,” she murmured.  “When this is all over, it’s going to be hard enough for you. I don’t want you to feel obligated…”

            “Felicity, I’m happy to feel obligated.  I _want_ to feel obligated. And, frankly, that’s going to happen whether we go in there or not.  I want to marry you.  I have since the first time I brought that awful burned peanut butter toast to your door.”

            She laughed despite herself.  “It really was burned.”

            He kissed her.  “I love you and I want to marry you.  Do you want to marry me?”

            She hesitated for a second before admitting, “I do.”

            He smiled, pressing another kiss against her lips.  “Then let’s go in there and get married.  Not to brag, but I think we’ve done a pretty fantastic job. We even got quidditch truffles.”

            Her eyes widened.  “Quidditch truffles?”

            “You wanted personal touches, didn’t you?”

            She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her face into his neck. “I love you, Oliver. So much.”

            “I love you, too,” he said, kissing her bare temple.  “Now, let’s go get married.”

 

_*** SIX YEARS LATER ***_

            Oliver stood in the living room, framed picture in his hands. His own laughing face greeted him from within the frame, his mouth pulled into such a wide grin that it almost looked like it hurt.  Felicity was beside him, face tilted up toward him as she said something.  He couldn’t remember what it was that she’d said, but he remembered it made him laugh.  Oh, did he laugh. He didn’t even think it was possible to laugh anymore back then, but that day was different.  It was as if time stood still, letting them have their moment.

            It was a perfect wedding, and just as Felicity had hoped, one the guests would never forget.  Donna walked her daughter down the aisle, smiling proudly as she handed her over to Oliver. He remembered thinking that he had never seen anything as beautiful as her on that day.  The wedding dress fit her perfectly, and Sara had curled her hair into these soft waves.  She didn’t wear much makeup, but the light touch she did have highlighted her features. Her eyes were always Oliver’s favorites, and he would never forget the simple adoration in them as she promised to spend the rest of her days as his wife.

            “Daddy?”

            Oliver put the picture back on the mantle and turned back toward his daughter.

            “Good morning, Ellie.”

            The three year old gave him a toothy grin.  “I want pancakes.”

            “Well, you are just in luck.  Because, do you know what I have going on the stove right now?”

            He picked her up, carrying her over to the kitchen.  She laughed, pointing at the pancakes that were bubbling on the griddle.

            “Pancakes!” she said loudly, clapping her hand on his shoulder.

            “Not just _any_ pancakes. Blueberry pancakes. Your favorite.”

            “With ice cream?”  Ellie asked.

            Oliver laughed.  “I don’t think we’re going to have any ice cream.  It’s a little early for that.”

            He saw the pancakes were ready to be flipped, and he set Ellie back on the ground before picking up the spatula and flipping over the pancakes. He glanced back at Ellie and saw that one of her braids had come almost entirely undone.

            “El, what’d you do to your hair?” he asked, walking over.

            “I went like this!” she said, gamely puling on her other braid. The elastic popped off and he sighed as he watched the braid unravel.

            “Okay. Let’s get those fixed. Come over here.”

            He sat down at the table and beckoned Ellie over.  She fidgeted as he worked on her braids, his fingers clumsily sliding through her slick hair.  He was never good at braiding, and this morning was no different.

            “Ow,” Ellie cried when he accidentally pulled her hair. 

            “I’m sorry,” he sighed, finishing off a haphazard braid and securing it with an elastic.

            “I like it when Mommy does my hair,” Ellie complained, tugging her head away from his hands, which then caused her to screech.

            “I know,” he said, frowning.  “I know you do. But I’m doing your braids now, okay? And they’re going to look great.” He finished the last braid and admired his handiwork.  The braid was lopsided, and already a strand was poking out a few twists down. “Okay, maybe not great.”

            “What did you do to my daughter’s hair?”

            Oliver glanced back at the doorway, laughing as Felicity walked into the kitchen.

            “I did braids.  They’re not half bad, right?”

            She shook her head and crouched in front of her daughter.  Ellie launched herself into Felicity’s arms.

            “Mommy! Daddy kept pulling my hair!”

            “He did what?” she said in mock outrage, smirking at Oliver over Ellie’s shoulder. “Why did you try to do braids again?”

            “I wanted her to look nice when you came down here.”

            “And why is that?” she asked, kissing her daughter’s head before Ellie rushed off into the living room to play with her dolls.

            He gave her a goading smile and then pulled himself from the table, walking into the other room.  He returned with a bouquet of tulips – her favorite – and said, “Do you know what today is?”

            She took a deep breath, nodding.  “Yeah, I do.”

            “Five years,” he said, watching her as she sniffed the flowers. “Can you believe it?”

            She held the tulips to her chest and shook her head.  “I thought the remission was a blessing enough. This…I’m just grateful. I’m really grateful.”

            He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist.  She tilted her face up to his, and he dropped a chaste kiss on her lips. 

“I love you, Felicity.”

            “I love you, too.  Also, I think something is burning.”

            “Crap,” he said, rushing back to the pancakes.  She chuckled walking over and watching him flip the now charred pancakes onto a plate.  He tried to scrap some of the burnt bits off and then went, “Eh, just think of it as some extra seasoning.”

            She smirked.  “Look at you. My husband is a regular Bobby Flay.”

            He shot her a look.  “Do you want to get the daughter?  I think we’re ready to eat.”

            She nodded and then called out, “Ellie, babe.  It’s breakfast!”

            Ellie came running over, pulling herself up onto all fours on the chair and then turning herself around to face the table.  Felicity laughed, noting how her daughter’s chin just reached the table.  

            “You need your booster seat, El,” she said, grabbing it from the desk and bringing it over to the table.  She lifted her daughter up from the table and then set her in it. “Now isn’t that better?”

            Ellie nodded happily.

            Oliver walked over with the pancakes and a large bowl filled with berries. Felicity grabbed the coffee and then they all settled at the table, their little family.  Felicity thought of where her and Oliver were a little more than five years before.  Everything had felt so temporary.  It made her enjoy the little moments more, but it also made her rush through them, wanting to have as many little moments as she could.  Now that she had the time, she wished it would all go slower.

            Oliver caught her eye and he raised an eyebrow. 

            “You okay?” he asked.

            She nodded, turning her gaze to Ellie and then back to him.  “Yeah, I’m perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I packed a lot in here! It was an emotional roller coaster for me to write, and I hope you all experienced some of that while you read! I just have to say that I absolutely loved writing this story. I know the twist took a lot of you off-guard - it surprised me, too! - but I really enjoyed exploring the different sides of the characters. I have loved sharing this story with you all over the last eight months or so, and I hope you have enjoyed the ride! Thank you all so much for reading and going on this journey with me! I love you all!


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